


A Very Married Christmas

by blancafic, LibbyWeasley



Series: Very Married [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bedsharing, Christmas, Co-Written, F/M, Fake Marriage, FitzSimmonsing, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Real Kissing, Season 1, UST, scheming cousin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-09-23 13:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17080826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancafic/pseuds/blancafic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWeasley/pseuds/LibbyWeasley
Summary: FitzSimmons go undercover as newlyweds so they can investigate an alien virus that has made its way to Sheffield. But families, mistletoe, and mutual pining make it difficult for them to remember that being married is just their cover.





	1. Skye

**Author's Note:**

> This story will feature alternating POV. The first chapter is from Skye's POV (written by Libby) and then they will alternate between Fitz (written by Blanca) and Jemma (written by Libby).

Skye settled down with her laptop. Fitz and Simmons were positioned across from her, and once May, Ward, and Coulson arrived, the briefing began.

“From the observable effects, it appears that in large enough doses this contagion attacks the nervous system. . .”

Skye glanced around the room, trying to think of something else. Simmons’ ability to describe diseases with such enthusiasm was a little disturbing. Fitz apparently agreed, because he was starting to look a little green. The entire team was gathered around the holotable listening to Simmons detail the horrible effects of the unknown contagion that they were trying to track down while Fitz was showing a simulated model of how the epidemic could spread. So, basically a regular Tuesday since she had joined Coulson’s team. 

“Signs of infection appear to be something that looks like a stroke or seizure without any warning signs or previous medical history, along with fatigue, fever, and headaches. Oh, and I would also be concerned about any skin infections, particularly if you see any oozy or dark discharge from the open skin. That could be an indication of how this is spread,” Jemma said excitedly. 

“Maybe we didn’t need quite so much detail,” Coulson remarked, finally taking pity on Fitz, who was looking darkly at his best friend. 

“I just want to make sure that everyone is prepared,” she objected. “If you see someone with these symptoms, make sure you keep your distance. I still don’t know the method of transmission. And since the local authorities don’t know about S.H.I.E.L.D’s involvement, I’m certain they aren’t researching it correctly.”

“Skye,” Coulson said, “you are with me. We’ll be running the back end from here.” Skye let out a mostly silent groan and Ward gave her an encouraging look. 

“The rest of you will be heading into town. You’ll go in as CDC. FitzSimmons will get the samples they need to analyze.” He nodded at the scientists. “May and Ward, you’ll keep them from getting into trouble.”

“Well, that’s not —“ interjected Fitz. 

“I hardly think —“ added Simmons. 

But Coulson’s raised eyebrows were enough to quiet their protests. 

“Now that that’s settled, grab your gear and head out.”

Taking her laptop with her, Skye moved to a more comfortable place to work. Even though she was still the newest member of the team, she had already claimed her favorite spot in the common area of the Bus, where she curled up in a comfy chair. She had just pulled up the satellite images she would use to monitor the team’s progress when her phone started buzzing. The number wasn’t one she recognized. In fact it wasn’t even from a call from the US. She wasn’t going to pick it up without knowing who was calling. After a quick search on her computer she had her answer. Caroline Simmons.

Why was Simmons’ mom calling _her_?

Figuring she could catch the team before they left in the SUV, Skye hurried down to the open doors and headed down the ramp. 

Stepping out into the sunlight, she felt the warmth on her skin. It was hard to believe it was December already, but it was actually almost Christmas. She’d have to check with Coulson to see if they took any time off for the holidays. Watching Fitz and Simmons bicker while May and Ward looked on impatiently, she suspected not. They didn’t seem the type to take vacations. . .or spend time with family. She really couldn’t picture Ward singing Christmas carols and drinking hot chocolate by a fire. May either. Unless she was undercover. Fitz and Simmons, though? Definitely. . .and probably together. They were inseparable. And they had families. Jemma’s mother was trying to call right at this moment.

The black SUV was parked right outside the Bus and Fitz was loading several large cases into the back. Ward tried to help, reaching for one of the cases, but Fitz slapped at his hand. 

“Please don’t touch anything,” he said, gently laying the case in the back of the vehicle. Then he added, “My equipment is very delicate. Simmons is the only other person allowed to touch it.”

Skye burst out laughing and he flushed. “I’m sure she is.”

“Wait! I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s okay, Fitz.” Simmons placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Everyone knows how protective you are of your equipment.”

He looked at her for a moment, like he was going to respond, and then let it go. Skye could not figure the two of them out. They insisted they weren’t anything except best friends. But all the looks and touches between them made it obvious that they should be together. If anyone ever looked at her the way Fitz looked at Simmons, with the mix of affection and awe like she was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen, she would jump him — or her — immediately. 

Shaking those thoughts from her head, Skye called out, “Simmons, why is your mom calling me?”

“Oh, is my mum calling again?” she asked, looking slightly guilty. 

At Skye’s nod she responded, “Just ignore it. I’ll call home when we get back.”

“But why is she calling _me_?”

“Probably because I gave her your number as an emergency contact,” Simmons replied with a wince.

“Simmons. . .that is so sweet!”

“Yes, well. . .she probably couldn’t reach May or Coulson, or Fitz, of course, so she tried you.”

“Wait...I’m fourth on your emergency contact list.”

Fitz and Simmons exchanged a look then, one of those looks that allowed them to communicate without a word. How on earth did they not see that they acted like an old married couple. They would actually be really good at this spy stuff with those looks as their secret weapon. . .if they weren’t such terrible liars. 

“You are lucky you’re fourth. I get calls all the time because Simmons never answers her phone,” Fitz complained. “And then her mum calls my mum and the next thing I know they are both calling me.”

“If you want it to stop, you can just block the number,” May suggested. “That’s what I did.”

“You can just ignore it,” Simmons said again. “Really. It’s fine. I’ll call her later.”

So Skye ignored the buzzing. And after the team left, she ignored the next several calls. Even though Coulson said they would be running the back end, there really wasn’t anything to do. Aside from monitoring the satellite images, they were really just waiting for the team to check in. But while she waited, she started to get concerned about all the phone calls. Simmons’ mother was really trying hard to reach her. That seemed like it went beyond the regular amount of parental concern. Not that she really knew what that looked like. But her fingers started itching when the phone buzzed. She really wanted to answer it and assure Mrs. Simmons that her daughter was okay. So she started doing some digging. 

Her fingers flew over the keys of her laptop as she dug into FitzSimmons’ emails and files on the S.H.I.E.L.D servers, locating their parents names and information from their personnel files. S.H.I.E.L.D should really invest in some better security. It had only taken her a few minutes to get everything she needed downloaded onto her computer. 

She was just running a search on Simmons’ parents when Coulson came up behind her. 

“You just set off every alarm bell they’ve got at the Hub. What are you working on? Please tell me it is mission-related.” Coulson sounded amused. Thank god for that. 

“If by mission-related you mean related to the fact that my phone won’t stop ringing. . .then, yes,” she said with what she hoped was an innocent smile. 

“You hacked into a secure server because Simmons’ mom is trying to reach her?” he asked conversationally. 

But then Coulson’s phone started ringing and as soon as the sound stopped her phone started vibrating across the table and would have fallen to the ground if Coulson’s hand hadn’t shot out to catch it. 

“Question retracted,” he said, coming to sit next to her. “What did you find?”

“I just needed to get her parents’ information and then I…”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Simmons’ dad was just admitted to the hospital. Seizure. No family history.” She turned to face Coulson, eyes wide. “I know this is ridiculous and I’m jumping to conclusions, but that sounds a lot like what Simmons said about this virus or whatever it is.”

“We don’t know anything yet, but this is worth checking out. We need to talk to Simmons’ mom. . .find out what she knows.” He glanced at the satellite image projected on the screen. “Any word from the team?”

“No. . .nothing.”

“Then go ahead and see what you can find on Simmons and her parents. It has already been two hours. If they aren’t back in another hour we’ll pick up the phone and talk. See if there is any connection between Simmons’ dad and what we are working on here.”

Skye frowned. “And make sure Simmons’ family knows she is okay, right?”

“That too,” he said with a smile, and went back to his office, leaving Skye alone with her thoughts. . .and the downloaded contents of Fitz and Simmons' files. 

Now that she had permission, she returned to sorting through Simmons’ emails and files. Oh! That was interesting. They would be talking about _that_ later, though she didn’t think it was relevant right now. Going back to some of the earlier emails she thought she might have hit the jackpot. 

Most of the recent emails had been fairly boring. The details of what they did were classified, obviously, so Simmons only shared stories of what happened in the lab, without giving away too much. She never even mentioned the Bus or any of the places they had visited. Reading through her friends’ correspondence with their parents definitely felt invasive, but she was getting a better understanding of them. 

Simmons’ parents seemed to be loving, but also demanding, constantly asking questions about her career and her relationships. They wanted her to be successful, but as far as Skye could tell, they were going about it the wrong way. Simmons didn’t need anyone pushing her to be more uptight and driven. She had that part down. 

The emails from Fitz’s mom were entirely different, full of news of their family and friends. 

That really explained a lot about the two of them. 

But in an email from 2007, there was something that Skye found very interesting. 

_. . .Fitz and I have been dating for several months now, and I just want you to know how happy we are. So there is no reason to worry. I’m not all alone here. Fitz is always by my side. . ._

FitzSimmons were together! But they weren’t. She looked at the date again. That was six years ago. So they had dated and then broken up? There was nothing in the emails about that...and they certainly didn’t act like exes. 

Did Simmons lie to her parents? It was possible. And she certainly had left out the fact that she went into the field.

Going back to the emails in front of her there was no further mention of the two of them dating, but now that she knew to look for it, it seemed obvious. There were plenty of clues in the emails from their moms that implied they knew FitzSimmons were a couple. Fitz’s mom always asked how _Jemma_ was doing and Simmons’ mom always wrote that she hoped Jemma was still happy and things were going well with Fitz. Interesting. 

If they told Simmons’ mom that her daughter was with Fitz, that might be enough to assuage her concerns. And if they asked the right questions they may be able to get some additional information on what happened to Simmons’ father. She grabbed her phone and went to find Coulson. He was still standing in front of the screens that hadn’t showed any activity in hours. 

“Coulson. . .I think I found something.”

He turned to face her. “Related to the contagion?”

“Oh, uh, no. . .related to Simmons’ mother driving me crazy.” She quickly added, “I still have the satellite search going, but I lost track of them as soon as they entered town. It’s like the images are scrambled.”

“Alright, what did you find?”

“Well. . .” she said dramatically, “I don’t think FitzSimmons told their families they went into the field.” 

Coulson’s face remained impassive. Really not the reaction she’d been going for. 

“That isn’t unusual. A lot of agents don’t tell their families. It isn’t against the rules, but it makes it easier. What else do you have?”

“I think they may have told their families they were dating. Is that normal too?”

“No, that is unusual.” Coulson looked thoughtful. “That would explain a lot though.”

“I know, right? But I don’t think they really are together. Simmons just didn’t want her parents to worry. It’s kinda sweet.”

“So what do you plan to do with this information?”

“Well, I thought we could answer the phone the next time it rings and try to get some information about Simmons’ dad. If her mom wants to know where she is, we can just say she’s with Fitz. Which is true.”

“That sounds like a solid plan. Good work.” Skye beamed at the praise. “You can answer the phone when it rings.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Her parents don’t know she is in the field. It would be more believable that a friend, a roommate even, picked up the phone rather than her boss.”

“Right.”

The phone started buzzing in her hand, and Skye took a steadying breath. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Jemma’s mum. She gave me this number to call in case of emergency.”

“Mrs. Simmons. This is S-Jemma’s friend. I just picked up my phone and saw that you’ve been calling.” Coulson nodded at her. 

“Oh, thank goodness. And, it’s Dr. Simmons.” Skye eyebrows shot up. How had she missed that?

“Jemma isn’t here right now, but she is fine. Is there any message I can pass on to her?” Coulson turned his finger in a circle, indicating that she should try to keep the woman talking. 

“Oh, I just needed to talk to her about a family matter. Where is Jemma?”

“Oh. . .she’s with Fitz. They went, uh, out of town.” That was completely true at least. Maybe next time she could be the one to go undercover. She was pretty good at this. 

“When will they be back? And why isn’t she answering her phone?” 

Skye didn’t have an answer to either of those questions and she started to flounder.

“They didn’t want to be disturbed. Today is a special day and they needed to be alone. Just the two of them. They went to. . .” Skye paused, racking her brain for the name of the closest town. “Vegas!” 

There was a loud screeching sound through the speaker on the phone and she looked up to see Coulson drop his head into his hands. 

“They did it! They finally did it! Thank you, dear. I’ll call Jemma later to congratulate them. But I need to call Jean now to give her the good news.”

The line went dead and Skye stared at Coulson in horror. “Did I just tell Simmons’ mother that FitzSimmons got married?”

“I think you did,” he said, coming over and putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. It happens to the best of us.”

“Has this happened to you before?”

“No, but I did accidentally get married once while on a mission, so I understand how these things happen.”

“Did it work out alright?”

“What?” he asked. “Getting married? I’m not sure May has forgiven me yet, so the jury’s still out on that one.”

“You married May?” Skye yelled. 

“On accident. We got it annulled. It’s fine. I think.” 

A beeping sound started coming from the speakers mounted near the screen. “Oh, look. The team is back. Looks like we get to break the news to FitzSimmons that they are married now.”

Coulson sounded way too cheerful to be saying that. They’d probably never speak to her again. How could this have happened?

But when the team reached the Bus, her mistake took a backseat to the debrief. Ward had apparently been punched in the nose by one of the quarantined patients, and Simmons was trying to make sure his nose wasn’t broken, which was hard to do with all the blood. 

Fitz was keeping his distance from Ward and his bodily fluids, clutching the case that held the samples they collected. And May was looking on with a small smile. This had really been a weird day. So weird, in fact, that maybe Coulson would forget all about telling FitzSimmons that their parents now thought they were married. A girl could dream. 

“Simmons, what did you find?”

“We collected several blood samples, and I was able to examine a patient. There were no obvious secretions. And no open sores. Ward, I think this is just bruised, so put some ice on it.”

Fiz continued from where Simmons left off. “I talked to family members of some of the infected people. It doesn’t seem like it is airborne because not everyone got sick and the DWARFs didn’t pick up anything.”

“Well, it could be because some people have some sort of immunity. Which is why I was happy to get a blood sample from a healthy person as well.”

“Yeah, well he’s probably not going to be happy when he wakes up,” Fitz said under his breath. 

“I think maybe they ingested something. But I’ll know more once we’ve analyzed the samples,” Simmons finished with a smile. “Oh, I should call home. My parents must be worried sick. I didn’t think we’d be gone so long.”

Oh, shit. She should tell them. 

But before she could say anything, Coulson said, “Actually, before you talk to your parents I need to talk to you and Fitz. Alone.”


	2. Fitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson has some news to share with FitzSimmons and they prepare for an undercover mission that's a little too close to home.

Jemma gave Fitz an inquiring look, one he knew meant she was wondering whether he had any idea why Coulson would want to talk to them privately. Having none, he shrugged and gestured toward the stairs. She followed Coulson up and Fitz came after her until they were standing awkwardly in Coulson’s office, bracing themselves for whatever their boss had to say.

He leaned over his desk, palms flat. “First of all, Agent Simmons, talk to your parents once in a while. We wouldn’t be in this situation if you’d just answered your phone.”

Jemma’s mouth went tight and she lowered her head, chastened by the reproach. “Sorry, sir. It’s only, she’s always so worried about me. But now I realize that avoiding her just makes her worry more. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Fitz was more focused on a different part of the conversation. “What situation are we in exactly?”

“That’s the second thing,” Coulson said with some hesitation. “Congratulations. You two are now married. And you’re going home for the holidays to celebrate the good news with your families. So start packing your bags.”

They both rushed to object, somehow listening and talking over one another at the same time, as only they could. 

“Hang on. We can’t just pack up and leave on holiday—” Fitz said.

“What with the outbreak and everything. We’ve got the new samples to test—” Jemma added. 

“Plus, there’s the upgrades to the D.W.A.R.F.s. And we’re still finalizing the prototype for the night-night gun—”

“Still not calling it that—”

“Whatever. The point is, it’s not a good time. Work wise, I mean.”

“Definitely not.”

They nodded at each other, as if coming to a simultaneous decision, then turned to Coulson with crossed arms, a unified front. 

He stared at them blankly for a minute, then tilted his head. “Really? That’s what you’re objecting to? After I just told you that as far as your friends and family back home are concerned, you two are husband and wife?”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Jemma said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “About time anyway. My mum’s probably been wondering what’s taken him so long to propose.”

“You could have told her I asked and you said no,” Fitz suggested.

“Why would I say no?”

“I dunno. Maybe you’re not ready for that kind of commitment.”

“Why does it have to be my fault?”

“Alright, alright.” Coulson held up his hands to quiet them. “There’s no point in arguing. That’s just your cover story anyway. In actuality, you’ll be investigating the spread of this virus overseas.”

“But there haven’t been any cases outside the U.S.,” Jemma said.

“There has now. We just got word of one. In Sheffield.” 

Fitz suddenly had a very bad feeling. When he saw the color drain from Jemma face, he knew she felt the same. He stepped closer, placing a steadying hand on her arm. 

“There’s one more thing I have to tell you. Agent Simmons, your father is in the hospital. Or ‘in hospital,’ I guess? Isn’t that what you guys say across the pond? Never quite understood that colloquialism myself.”

Fitz knew Coulson was trying to soften the blow with his semantic babbling, but Jemma tensed up next to him anyway. She covered his hand with her own, drawing on his strength. He was happy to lend it to her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice straining. “And why on Earth didn’t you lead with that?”

“Is it serious?” Fitz asked.

“Unclear,” Coulson answered. “His symptoms seem to be in line with the virus we’ve been tracking. That’s why I need you two to investigate. But you need a reason to go home together without looking suspicious. We don’t want to raise alarms if it’s nothing. And if it’s not nothing, S.H.I.E.L.D. will deal with it. Quietly.”

Fitz wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. Sometimes he was grateful for his lower clearance level.

Jemma let out a heavy sigh. “I’d better call my mum and break it to her that she’ll have two more guests for Christmas. Not that she won’t be delighted. Or, I suppose she would be . . . in other circumstances.”

“You’ll have to fly commercial, to keep up the appearance of it being a personal trip. I’ll handle the mission details and brief you before you go. The sooner the better.”

They returned to the lab in silence, trying to comprehend the overload of information Coulson had just delivered. Jemma hadn’t seemed too disturbed to learn of their sudden fictional marriage. He knew she’d told her parents they were dating years ago, just to get them off her back. He suspected his mother was under the same impression, though she never came right out and said it. She’d always taken a special interest in Jemma — ever since that first winter break when he’d come home from the Academy raving non-stop about the brilliant girl he’d met and how he was just looking for the perfect conversation starter — but over time the nature of his mother’s questions had changed from the present to the future. It didn’t bother him either, not as much as it probably should have.

Jemma wasted no time, sitting down at her computer and pulling up travel sites. It was just like her to ignore the implications of things she couldn’t get a handle on and focus on something tangible. In this case, travel arrangements.

“So I’m thinking we should probably hit Sheffield first, to check in with my dad and see what we can find out about this virus, and stay there for Christmas. Then we’ll take the train to Glasgow on the 26th, to keep up appearances. Looks like there’s a flight to Manchester tomorrow morning with a two-hour layover in Newark. That should put is there around . . . ”

“Simmons?” She was muttering to herself, caught up in calculating dates and timetables. He put his hand on her shoulder and tried again. “Hey, hey. Jemma. Slow down. Are you okay? With the news about your dad and everything?” 

He knew she wasn’t, but he wanted to give her an opening to talk about it if she wanted, or to decline if not. She turned to him, glassy eyed. “When was the last time you were home?”

He didn’t have to think hard to recall. “Last April, when I surprised my mum for her birthday. Why? How long’s it been for you?”

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone home to England. Her parents had visited a little over a year ago, when she and Fitz were still at Sci-Ops, but she hadn’t taken a holiday for herself in a long time.

“Three years,” she said wistfully, almost to herself. “It’s been three years. I’ve been meaning to go back and visit, I just . . . somehow never found the time. And now . . .”

The tears that had gathered in her eyes started to overflow in tiny droplets onto her cheek. He pulled her into a hug and she held on to him as if he were a lifeline.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered over the top of her head, though he had no way of knowing whether that was true. “Call your mum. I’m sure she’ll have more details. And I’ll call mine. We’ll sort this out. Yeah?”

He pulled away to look at her and swiped his thumb across her moist cheek. She nodded her head, sniffling lightly. The look in her eyes, grateful and trusting, brought up old familiar feelings he was used to tamping down. Though they seemed to surface more and more often these days. 

“I’ll call her now,” Jemma said, recovering her composure. “We can go over the dates and reservations and I’ll send you a final itinerary. Would you mind asking if your mom can have us after Christmas?”

“Of course. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

In fact, his mother would be thrilled to see them, especially now that she could gloat about how she’d known they were meant for each other all along. He briefly considered whether they could extend their stay until Hogmanay before he caught himself. This was a mission, not an actual holiday. And Jemma’s father was ill, from a mystery virus they understood very little about. This wasn’t the time to be fantasizing about hypothetical celebrations.

“Leo, what a nice surprise,” his mum said after answering the phone on the first ring. She didn’t sound surprised in the least. “Everything alright there, son?”

“I guess you heard the news,” he said, with far less enthusiasm than he’d have had if the news were actually true. But he wasn’t in the mood to play the blissful newlywed at the moment. He had to pace himself for the long journey ahead.

“Oh, aye. And blessings to you both. But why in God’s name am I the last to know?”

She must have heard the news from Caroline Simmons. They definitely had each other on speed dial. The two of them had probably picked out names for their grandchildren already. Why was everyone so invested in him and Jemma as a couple? He was starting to think this pretend marriage wasn’t such a great plan after all. For a whole litany of reasons.

As expected, his mum was more than happy to host them for a few days over the holiday break. He managed to avoid her leading questions about the wedding and sleeping arrangements and promised to catch her up on everything when they arrived. Before hanging up she asked him to pass on her love to his bride and the line went silent on his end for several seconds before he could think clearly enough to respond. 

When he returned to the lab he found Coulson already there, chatting with Jemma. She appeared to be in better spirits now and smiled when she saw him. 

“Agent Fitz,” Coulson said. “I take it everything’s settled with your mother?”

He swallowed the ball of anxiousness that had been building up in his throat since he’d heard the word “bride” and nodded. “Yes, sir. She’ll be expecting us on the 26th.”

“Good. Agent Simmons has made the arrangements with her family as well.”

He turned to her. “And your dad?”

“Out of hospital and recovering at home.” That was good to hear, but he could tell by the look on her face there was more. “He’s doing much better, but the symptoms do sound similar to what we encountered here in the desert. The survival rate has been high so far, but with his age there could be complications. I’d like to check it out for myself.”

“I’ve sent you the mission files, so you can look them over when you have a chance. Oh, and I did a little digging in the undercover closet. Thought these would help sell your story.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two rings, one of them a simple gold band and the other its perfect match, but for a signal round diamond set into it.

Fitz couldn’t take his eyes off them. It was one thing to talk about pretending to be married, but here was the tangible proof that made it all the more real. Except . . . 

“No,” he pronounced, shaking his head. “That’s not the ring I’d give to Simmons. It’s not even her size.”

Without thinking, he scooped up both rings from Coulson’s hand and examined them closely. They were made of a cheap gold alloy, but at least the stone looked real. Or if it wasn’t, it was a pretty good fake. Still, if he was going to marry Jemma it wasn’t going to be with some generic diamond band. Her ring would have to be symbolic, something that meant something to both of them. He looked up and found Jemma staring at him in surprise. So maybe he’d put some thought into what kind of ring he might give her someday. No big deal.

“What?” he said, legitimately confused by her reaction.

“Sorry, but this is all we have,” Coulson said. “Unless you can afford to buy one yourself, they’ll have to do.”

Jemma was still looking at him, eyebrows raised in an expression he couldn’t read. She seemed to be waiting for something. Then he realized he was still holding both rings in his palm. He was about to hand over the one meant for her, but stopped himself to consider just how to go about it. Should he slide it onto her finger? Would that be too forward? Or should he let her do that for herself? He knew what he wanted to do, but he chickened out at the last second and held out the ring for her to take. She picked it up and put it on, but as he’d figured, it spun loosely around her finger. He slipped the other one onto his own left ring finger. It fit just fine.

“Here, I think I might have some tools to size it properly,” he said, holding out his hand so she could give it back. She hesitated for a moment, then returned it to him.

“Sir?” He could see the wheels turning in her head as she turned back to Coulson. “What about after the mission? What do we tell our family? I mean, we can’t be fake married forever.”

“Then get a fake divorce. Tell them it didn’t work out. Up to you. But it’s probably best not to give too many details.”

She scoffed. “Divorced? I don't think they'd buy it.”

“Maybe you cheated on me.” Fitz suggested.

“I would never!” she fired back, indignant.

“It’s a hell of a lot more likely than me cheating on you.”

“Please. I’d be a great wife and you know it.”

“Well I’d be an even better husband!”

“If you two are done?” Coulson interrupted with a hint of exasperation. “I’ve got other ops to run, so just let me know if you have any questions about the materials I sent. The rest . . . you can sort out later.”

He looked like he was about to say something else, then thought better of it and left them alone to finalize the details.

Once he was gone a strange awkwardness settled over them. It wasn’t something Fitz was used to, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of anything to say. That rarely ever happened with Jemma and he didn’t care for it at all. He wished they could go back their usual, easy rapport.

As if reading his mind, she pivoted to more familiar territory. “We have some time before we leave if you want to help me analyze the samples we brought back.”

“Excellent idea, Simmons.” He gave her a quick smile, grateful to return to the normalcy of the lab. She returned it and they got to work.

They spent the rest of the afternoon preparing the blood samples to test and comparing the healthy specimens to the ones infected by the virus. Jemma didn’t really need his help — and they both knew it — but being in the lab with her calmed him down and kept him from worrying over all the things he didn’t want to think about. Like how they were going to pull off this marriage ruse for their parents. And whether Jemma’s dad would fully recover. And the fact that he had to pretend to to be in love with Jemma. Or pretend not to be. And how the hell a mysterious virus could migrate across a continent and an ocean to infect her dad, of all people. And where they were going to sleep. 

It was a lot to process.

Soon enough, the tests were complete and all there was to do was wait for the results. Needing a new distraction, he occupied his mind with the logistics of the trip. They both still needed to pack for their flight early the next morning. And besides that, there was one more important thing he had to do before they left.

He’d just started gathering the tools he’d need for the task when Skye joined them in the lab. 

“Hey guys. Everything alright?” she asked, looking sheepish.

“You tell us,” Jemma said. “After all, you seem to know everything about us. And our relationship.”

Fitz knew Jemma well enough to hear the playful undertone in her voice, but to Skye it must have sounded accusatory, because she suddenly looked like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Guess Coulson told you what happened.”

“No, actually. It was my mother. Apparently you two had quite an enlightening conversation earlier.”

Skye wouldn’t look either of them in the eye, which gave Fitz the opportunity to send a meaningful look to Jemma. As long as they were stuck in this situation, they might as well have a little fun with it.

“What I want to know is, how did you guess?” Fitz asked. A light went on in Jemma’s eyes as she caught on. “We tried really hard to hide it.”

“I . . . uh . . . what?” Skye asked, looking back and forth between them. “You _what_?”

“I guess she’s just too good,” Jemma said to Fitz with a shrug. “A natural, really. No wonder Coulson wanted her on the team. We should have known we couldn’t keep it a secret from her for long.”

“So you guys are actually together? Like, _together_ together?”

“Have been for years,” Fitz said, putting his arm around Jemma’s shoulders to really sell it. Might as well get some practice in now. 

“But, you know, S.H.I.E.L.D. has rules against this sort of thing,” Jemma continued. “That’s why we couldn’t tell anyone. Guess they’ll be separating us now that you’ve discovered our little secret.”

Fitz let out an exaggerated sigh and looked at Jemma wistfully. “I’ll really miss working with you, love.”

“Same babes,” she said, eyelashes fluttering. 

“I am so, so sorry, you guys. Honestly, I didn’t know. I was just trying to get your mom off your back and she jumped to conclusions! Would they really—” Fitz couldn’t contain the smile that crept into his face. Neither could Jemma. Skye’s expression of bewilderment changed to one of realization. “You’re messing with me.”

“Of course we are,” Jemma said, letting Skye off the hook too easily in his opinion. But she did seem like she was genuinely sorry for her accidental part in their cover story, so he supposed they shouldn’t make her suffer too much. Now that the joke was over, he figured he should probably remove his arm from around Jemma, but found it surprisingly difficult to do so.

“So . . . you’re not mad?” Skye said hopefully.

“No, it’s fine,” Fitz reassured her. “You gave us a good cover to investigate the spread of the virus. So it worked out. You should have seen the look on your face, though.”

“Honestly, Skye. Me and Fitz?” Jemma shook her head and laughed, a bit too forcefully. He tried not to take offense.

Skye rolled her eyes. “Yeah. That would be totally crazy.” This time she was the one who wore a teasing expression.


	3. Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they are finally on their way home, Fitz and Jemma have to figure out how they are going to explain things to their parents...and set some ground rules. Who knows what they may have to say or do in order to convince their families they are actually married.

Jemma Simmons prided herself on always being prepared. It was that preparation that had allowed her to arrange their travel plans so quickly, so that at this moment, less than 24 hours after getting the news that her father was in hospital, she was on a plane to Newark to catch a connecting flight home. After the frenzy of booking the trip, calling home, and testing the samples they had collected, she finally had a chance to relax. 

But her mind wasn’t calm. It felt like her thoughts were doing gymnastics, refusing to settle into anything she could hope to understand. She was worried about her dad. And the mission. She still had work to do in order to finish analyzing the samples they collected. But Fitz had discouraged her from downloading all of the articles she wanted to get caught up on, the one thing that would have kept her busy mind distracted, saying that she needed a break. He had been so sweet through all of this. He was her rock. Her rock who was currently asleep in the seat next to her. 

She wanted to be upset with him. She _needed_ him. Needed to talk to him, that is. His face relaxed in sleep, he looked so young. It was hard to believe they had first met ten years ago. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. And there her thoughts went again. Taking a deep breath she reviewed the plan so far. Pretend to be married. Lie to her parents. Determine if her father had been exposed to the same virus they had found in the desert. Pretend to be married. Contact the team with any information they found. Pretend to be married. Pretend to be in love. With Fitz. 

Well, then. It seemed that her brain was processing information just fine. It was the conclusion that she was having trouble accepting. Why couldn’t it have been Ward? She would have had a hard time convincing her family she had married him...but that was the point. It would be easy to remember it was just for work. For the mission. With Fitz it would be too easy to pretend...too easy to forget it wasn’t real. 

He had fallen asleep with his hand on the armrest between them, and she brushed her fingertips experimentally across his knuckles. She was glad he was asleep. They touched frequently while in the lab, moving into each other’s personal space without thought. But this would be different. If he touched her in a way that wasn’t completely platonic, she wasn’t sure how she would react. 

She just needed to remember that she was a strong, independent woman who was above lusting over her best friend who had never shown any romantic interest in her. There. She could do that. 

Fitz woke up as the plane made its descent into Newark, giving her a sleepy smile before reaching for her hand. It was such a familiar gesture that she knew they would be alright.

But as soon as they reached the departure gate for their flight to Manchester her plans were thrown into disarray again. The snow had delayed the plane for their flight home and with all the holiday travelers, it didn’t seem like there would be any other options. Fitz had gone to the ticket counter to see if there was another flight that they could get on, but she wasn’t hopeful. 

However, in these minutes alone, she could get some help with her other problem. It was Skye’s fault that they were pretending to be married, so she could help Jemma figure out what to do. 

Skye picked up on the second ring and Jemma didn’t bother with pleasantries before getting right to the point. 

“Skye! Thank god you picked up.” The words came out in a rush. 

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Skye asked, panic evident in her voice.

“No. I mean, yes. We are fine.” She forced herself to slow down. “But how am I going to convince my family that Fitz and I are married?”

There was silence and Jemma pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. 

“Simmons. . .just do what you normally do.”

It sounded like Skye was holding back laughter, which just made Jemma cross. This was serious. They would jeopardize the mission if they couldn’t pull this off. Not to mention the fact that her parents would be sorely disappointed, both for the fact that she hadn’t actually married — or ever even dated — Fitz and also because she had lied. 

“But. . .but, Fitz and I don’t have a _romantic_ relationship,” she sputtered.

“Okay,” Skye said, sounding unconvinced. “Just act the way you normally do, and then hold hands every once in a while.”

Skye’s mention of holding hands pulled Jemma’s thoughts back to holding Fitz’s hand on the plane. They could do that. 

But Skye hadn’t finished. “And kiss him of course. Oh! And make sure you shake the bed. . .or just go ahead and have sex with him for real. I doubt he’d mind.”

“Shake the bed?” Jemma said with a gasp. “Honestly, we’ll be staying in our parents’ homes. There isn’t going to be any sex. But you make a good point about sleeping arrangements. I hadn’t really thought about sleeping with Fitz.”

At Skye’s burst of laughter, she clarified, “I mean, next to Fitz.”

“Relax, Jemma. Coulson gave me permission to dig through all of your personal files —“

“What!”

“—and you know that hidden file of pictures you have? Well, Fitz has one too.”

That got her attention. 

“Fitz has pictures of himself?”

“No, you nerd,” Skye said with a laugh, “Fitz has pictures of you.”

“Well, of course. We have been friends a long time. I’m sure he has pictures of me.”

“Not pictures with you in them. Pictures of you. Just you. Like his favorite pictures.”

“Well. . .”

“And a video, too. Some sort of party. You were wearing a red dress with an A-line skirt. Very cute, by the way.”

“Skye. . .that was just our going away party when we left Sci-Ops. Fitz recorded part of it in case we ever started to feel homesick once we were in the field.”

If Fitz felt anything towards her beyond friendship, that was something she wanted to explore more thoroughly. But Skye was wrong about his. It was just another example of his kindness. He was the best friend she could ever have. 

“Have you seen the video?” Skye asked. 

“Well, no—“

“I have. And I’m just saying, it doesn’t look like it’s a video of the party. It looks like Fitz couldn’t get enough of you in that dress, if you know what I mean.”

Jemma felt her face grow warm. “I most certainly do not know what you mean. Oh. Here he comes. I have to go. Bye, Skye!”

She quickly tucked her phone back in her pocket as Fitz walked back towards her. Her conversation with Skye had done nothing to make her more comfortable with all of this. 

“Sorry, Simmons. . .there aren’t any other flights. We’ll just have to wait.”

“That’s alright. We need to talk anyway. I planned on doing it on the flight, but you were asleep.”

Fitz sat on the floor next to her and she turned towards him. This would be a strange enough conversation as it was and she wanted to be able to judge his reactions. 

“So,” she began, “we need to discuss the details of our cover and make some rules.”

“Simmons. . .”

“You should call me Jemma. I don’t think my husband would call me by my last name.” Then a thought struck her. “Unless. . .would you want me to change my name?”

“Wha—? No! I would never ask you to do that.” Fitz honestly looked shocked and she smiled. 

“I don’t think we need to bother talking about our favorite things or details of our lives. I know everything there is to know about you. You don’t have any secrets from me.”

She had expected him to laugh. But instead he looked uncomfortable and turned away, clearly avoiding her eye. 

“Oh, Fitz. I don’t have any secrets from you either,” she said, trying to soothe him. Although that was a lie. She only had one huge secret she was keeping from him. 

“I know,” he responded. 

“So. . .what are we going to say about our wedding? We’ll need to make sure that our stories match,” she said slowly. 

“The wedding was impulsive. My idea obviously. If it was up to you it would have taken ten years to plan every detail. But I couldn’t wait another moment for us to be together after you accepted my proposal,” Fitz said in a surprisingly even tone given the fact that they were discussing their imaginary wedding. 

Jemma picked up the story. “You wore a suit with a blue shirt that matched your eyes and I wore that dress I wore to our going away party from Sci-Ops.”

Fitz’s face screwed up. “Really, Simmons?”

“Jemma,” she reminded him. 

“Really, _Jemma_?”

The way he said her name made her feel warm. What was wrong with her? 

“I like that dress, but red isn’t really the best color for a wedding. I picture you in a white dress. Something classy, traditional.”

He did remember the red dress. But he had mentioned it so casually it probably didn’t mean anything. He did have an excellent memory after all. 

“Oh, Fitz! We don’t have any wedding pictures!”

How could she have overlooked such an important detail? 

“It’s okay, Jemma.” Fitz took her hand in his in a comforting gesture. “I talked to Skye before we left. She is going to email some pictures that we can show our families. No red dress for you, though,” he said with a smile. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes dropping from his eyes to his lips, thinking about what Skye had said. Lips that she would kiss. They should definitely talk about that. 

“What about our honeymoon?” 

The question startled her out of her thoughts. 

“Our honeymoon?” she repeated. 

“Yeah. . .I mean obviously visiting your dad is more important right now, but we’d plan an actual honeymoon, right? Get away from work. Just the two of us.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” She thought for a moment. “I think. . .yes, I think I’d want to go home for my honeymoon. Show my husband where I grew up. So this is fine, really.”

“Simmons...Jemma. I don’t think I’d like to spend my honeymoon with my mum and your parents. I’d want some time, er, alone with my bride.”

His words made her feel an odd sense of longing. His bride. Someday Fitz would meet the woman he wanted to spend his life with. And he’d take her on the most romantic honeymoon he could imagine. Jemma was certain Fitz would always be her best friend. But things would be different between them once they had other people in their lives permanently. It was maddening to think about. 

“Fine,” she bit out. “Perthshire, then.”

“That’s in Scotland.”

“I know where it is, Fitz,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We went on holiday there once when I was a girl. It was lovely.”

“Weather is a bit unpredictable, but we could hope for snow and spend a week in front of the fire to stay warm.”

“Sharing body heat would be far more effective,” Jemma responded offhandedly, her mind creating an image of her and Fitz cuddling under a blanket in front of a blazing fire while snow blanketed the ground outside. 

“Oh, ah, right.” Fitz cleared his throat and released her hand. “So. . .um, anything else we need to talk about?” he asked, pushing a hand through his hair in what she recognized as a nervous gesture. 

“Our divorce.”

“Brutal, Simmons. We haven’t even been married for a whole day yet and you already want to leave me. Is it that terrible?” he joked, though she could sense his insecurity beneath the words. 

“Of course not, Fitz! You have been a perfect husband so far. I just think that if we are going to have to break the news in a few months that we’ve decided to separate then ,maybe we should plant some seeds now.”

“So why won’t things work out between the two of us? I think we already determined that infidelity is out of the question. Maybe it’s because I want to have kids and you don’t,” Fitz suggested. 

“Why would you assume I don’t want to have kids?” Jemma asked. 

“Oh. . .do you? I just thought you’d always want to put your career first.” 

“Of course my career is important. Just like yours is. But it isn’t more important than having a family. I’d like to have children someday. Once we’ve had a chance to see the world.” 

“Right, so what would keep us apart? It isn’t like there are many things we disagree about.”

“No.” She thought for a moment, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “S.H.I.E.L.D,” she said definitively. 

Fitz looked startled. “I don’t think we disagree about S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“No, of course not. But it’s the one thing that could keep us apart. Work. Careers. The stress of a relationship on top of our other goals. The wedding was impulsive. Maybe it wasn’t the right time.”

“Jemma. . .I would never choose my career over you.” Fitz sounded so earnest and she knew it was true. Even as they were now, as friends, he would choose her. 

“I know, Fitz,” she said with a sigh. “But would you let me walk away if I asked you to?”

She already knew his answer, but he confirmed it anyway. 

“If that was what would make you happy, then yes.” 

“That’s it, then,” she said with a forced smile. “I can just make sure to bring up work in front of our families. Maybe answer some emails or take a call when I should be spending time with you. Then later, everyone can say they saw the signs.”

“I’ll do it, too,” he added quickly. “We are in this together. And I certainly don’t resent you for caring about your career. This is what you’ve worked for and you do incredible things.”

Ugh. Why did he have to be so amazing all the time? Not wanting to dwell too long on that, she moved to the next topic on her list.

“So, rules then. We might have to say, or do, things that we wouldn’t normally be comfortable with. If we have some ground rules, that might make it easier.”

“Sure,” he said, nodding. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I think we should avoid talking about sex or other personal aspects of our relationship.”

“Oh, ah, yeah. Agreed. Maybe we should have a code word in case one of us starts to feel uncomfortable,” Fitz added.

“Yes, that’s a wonderful idea. How about dielectric —“

“—polarization. Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, but it is a little difficult to work into a normal conversation.”

“That’s okay. We probably won’t need it.” Jemma bit her lip. “I don’t think we’ll be able to come up with all of the possible permutations of circumstances.”

“What if we just have a rule that no matter what we say or do while we are back home, we forget about it when the mission is over, and don’t let it affect our friendship,” Fitz said, looking at her intently.

“So, what happens in the UK stays in the UK?” she asked with a laugh.

“Something like that,” he agreed. “Is that all then?” 

“No, there is one more thing. We need to kiss.”

“What? Now?” he moved away from her as if burned. She tried not to feel offended that he found the idea of kissing her so distasteful. 

“Yes. Well, no, but we should practice. I think my family will be able to tell if they are witnessing our first kiss. And as far as they know we’ve been together for years.”

“Because that’s what you told them.”

“Yes, because that’s what I told them.”

They sat in silence until Fitz finally spoke. 

“Okay, so what do we do?” he asked. 

“We should talk about what kind of kiss would be appropriate. Where it would be okay to put our hands. That sort of thing,” Jemma answered, proud of how even her voice was, when her heart was beating so hard. 

“Yeah, alright. Is it okay if I touch your face...your cheeks?” he asked tentatively. 

“That’s fine. You can touch me anywhere you want. In case we need to sell it. I’m not ticklish or anything. Can I put my hands on your shoulders? Or your chest?”

“Yeah...if it’s a long kiss, can I pull you closer, into a hug?”

“Oh, yes, Fitz. I think that would be lovely. Is eyes open, ok?”

“Mmmh-hmm.” Fitz shifted his body closer to hers and she forced air in and out of her lungs. “Do you like soft, gentle kisses? Or more intense, passionate kisses where you can’t get close enough to the other person?”

Jemma licked her lips. Fitz was always so thorough in his research. 

“I like both...but maybe the first kind in front of our parents. And the other kind when we want to act like we didn’t think anyone would see us.”

“So, prim and proper in front of our families and...ah, not if we need to get caught to reinforce our cover. Got it.” 

Fitz’s voice was quiet but his eyes were staring into hers. It felt like there was something wrong with the oxygen levels in this airport. Her breath was coming fast. 

“Should we practice?” she asked, leaning closer to him. 

“Yeah...I think that would be best,” he answered. 

Before their lips could meet halfway across the space between them, there was a crackle over the loudspeaker. 

“Boarding is beginning for flight 9048 to Manchester.”

“Oh, that’s us,” Fitz said. 

Jemma looked at him in confusion. “What?”

“Our flight. It’s boarding. The plane must have arrived after all,” he answered. 

“Right. I guess we should go.” She stood up quickly, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She had been seconds away from feeling Fitz’s lips on hers, and possibly even being pulled into his arms, and now she was adrift. She just wanted to get this flight over as quickly as possible. Almost seven hours next to Fitz when all she could think about was kissing him was going to be torture. And once they landed, her mum would be there to pick them up. There wouldn’t be any time alone to settle her thoughts. 

“Jemma, wait. I almost forgot.”

She turned and saw the sparkle of a ring sitting in the palm of his hand. She couldn’t breathe. 

“Fitz. . .”

“It’s the same ring. I, uh, just remade it so it would be more like something I’d give to you.”

Jemma stood there frozen. The ring was beautiful, even under the harsh fluorescent lights. Fitz maneuvered onto his knees, trying to get up off the floor to follow her, holding out the ring with one hand and grabbing his bag with the other. 

“See how the design is all intertwined? That’s how our lives have been since the day we met. Can you take the ring, Jemma? My hands are full,” he said, gesturing with his head. 

Their fellow passengers had seemed to take notice of the exchange and Jemma realized how it must look. Fitz on his knees holding out a ring to her.

“Yes, of course,” she said, grabbing the ring from his hand. 

There was applause around them as she pushed the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, and Fitz came to stand next to her. 

She studied the ring as they waited in line to board. It was beautiful. And it did symbolize their relationship. The design swirled around in an endless circle. 

“I engraved it, too,” Fitz said softly into her ear. 

She turned to look at him questioningly, and he took her hand in his, sliding the ring from her finger before turning it so the light reflected on the symbols engraved on the inside. At first she thought it was a string of x’s and o’s which was sweet, even if it was a little uninspired. But then she realized it was actually a series of alternating plus and minus signs.

“Fitz…” She didn’t know what to say. If they actually were a couple, this would have been an incredibly romantic gesture. “That was a really nice detail. My parents are going to be impressed.”

“Dielectric polarization,” he said, sliding the ring back onto her finger. “First conversation we ever had.”

Before she could think of anything to say that would come close to telling him how much she appreciated all the effort he was putting into this, they had reached the front of the line and were on their way to Manchester. 

As she settled into her seat on the plane, the woman across the aisle sent her a conspiratorial grin and said “Congratulations!”

This was turning into their most difficult mission ever. And she hadn’t even had to face her parents yet.


	4. Fitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma arrive in Sheffield and face the first challenges of their pretend marriage, including nosy family members and a certain holiday tradition involving a parasitic plant.

“Oh, god. She didn’t.” 

Jemma shopped short as they neared the arrivals area of the terminal, cradling her face in her hands. The passengers walking behind them had to duck around to keep the flow of traffic moving past the two fixed obstacles suddenly interrupting the path. Fitz scanned small crowd of people waiting to meet their parties on the way to baggage claim, looking for the source of Jemma’s dismay. Many of them held up signs with printed names. One such sign read: “Mr. and Mrs. Fitz-Simmons” in swooping, feminine handwriting. Fitz immediately recognized the woman holding it up as Caroline Simmons, her smile a slightly less radiant forerunner of her daughter’s (though he was admittedly biased).

“Come on,” he said, reaching for her left hand as she closed the distance and took his right. As they resumed walking he felt with his thumb for the cool metal band of the ring she was now wearing on her finger. It had turned out exactly as he’d hoped, and she’d seemed to like it. He caught her admiring it several times during the flight when she thought he wasn’t watching. That seemed like a good sign. “Here we go.”

“Hello my darlings!” Jemma's mother gushed as soon as she saw them. “Aren’t you two just the picture of wedded bliss.”

“Mum!” Jemma said brightly, dropping his hand — was he allowed to be disappointed by that? — to wrap her arms around the woman. He admired Jemma's ability to put on such a genuine smile when he knew she was as dead on her feet as he was after their long journey, and more than a little embarrassed by all the fuss.

“Dr. Simmons,” Fitz said with a nod, knowing her preference for the honorific. “Good to see you.”

She tut-tutted and squeezed his cheeks. “Please, Leo. You’re family now. Call me Caroline.”

He could feel heat bloom in his cheeks and lowered his head, hiding his reaction from both Simmons women. His mother used to be the only one who ever called him by his first name, until she started talking to Dr. Simmons on the regular. Now he was Leo to her parents too.

“The sign's a little much, don't you think?” Jemma said, barreling right past any potential awkwardness.

“Excuse me, but my daughter has finally come home to visit after three years, with her new husband in tow. I think _a little much_ is exactly what the occasion warrants.”

“Shall we head over to baggage claim?” Fitz suggested, ignoring the way his stomach twisted with every mention of their newlywed status. He’d have to get used to it if he was going to successfully sell their cover over the next few days. But not _too_ used to it. And that was exactly the problem.

Once they’d collected their bags and made their way out of the terminal, they found the car easily and piled their luggage into the boot. Jemma went to open the passenger side door, where the driver would normally sit if they were back in the States, but her mum shooed her away.

“No, Jemma dear, you go in the back with your husband. I’m your designated chauffeur this evening, remember?” She held up the sign again with one hand. As if they needed a reminder.

There was one thing that made him curious, though. “How'd you know we’d be hyphenating our names?” Fitz asked, pointing to the sign.

“Oh, it was something Jemma mentioned years ago.”

He looked over as she climbed into the seat next to him. It was a moonless night and the car light was dim, but he could have sworn her face was as red as his had felt earlier.

“Did she now?” he asked, looking pointedly at his pretend wife with very real amusement. She rolled her eyes and swatted him playfully on the arm.

“Yes, I believe it was that first summer she came home from the Academy,” Dr. Simmons explained as she started the engine and began heading out of the car park. “Everyone had started calling you two Fitz-Simmons, like you were already a celebrity couple, and she said that if you ever did get married you’d have to change your name as well, because it would only be fair. Was I wrong? Did you not change it?”

“No, spot on. Well remembered, Dr. Simmons,” Fitz said jovially. He flashed a satisfied smile in Jemma’s direction, but she was staring out the window into the dark and wouldn’t look at him. 

“I told you, love, it’s Caroline,” she admonished. He wasn’t going to get used to it any time soon. “Now, we all ate hours ago, but I wrapped up some leftovers from dinner and put them in the fridge for you. No one wanted to leave until you arrived, so I’m afraid you’ll have quite the welcoming party awaiting you.”

His plan coming off the flight was to crash on the first soft surface he came to and stay put until morning, but it looked like sleep would have to wait. Promises to keep, and all that.

Jemma tore her eyes from the window and faced the front seat, frowning. “Who’s going to be there?”

“Well, Aunt Vera and Cousin Claire, of course. They came up from London this morning. I’ve put them in the spare room, so the two of you can have your old room.” Jemma finally looked at him then. Even in the low light he could read the apprehension in her eyes, and knew she was thinking the same thing he was — there was only going to be one bed in that room. Which he was expecting, but the confirmation of it was another thing altogether. “And let’s see, some of the ladies from the Women’s Aid. Ben and Gertie and the children from next door. Carl from across the street. No one can stand the old codger, but he’s got no family to speak of, so we tolerate him around the holidays. Oh, and Martin from the office.”

Jemma looked aghast. “You invited all these people for dinner when dad’s not even fully recovered?”

“It’s our annual Christmas Eve-Eve dinner. I couldn’t cancel could I? And he’s doing much better, your father. You’ll see when you get there. I’ve been monitoring him for signs of relapse and he’s been nothing but stable.”

“What if he’s contagious?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. He didn’t do the cooking did he? Didn’t even come downstairs. Really, have a little faith in your mum. You're not the only doctor in the family, in case you've forgotten. He’s in very capable hands.”

“You’re an ob-gyn!”

“At least I went to medical school.”

Jemma sighed. “You wouldn’t mind if I take a look at him when we get there, would you?” The question was a formality, really. They all knew she was determined either way.

“Do what you want, darling. You always have.”

Fitz detected the hard edges of long-held bitterness seeping through the woman’s voice, like old sketch lines in a painting. Always there, but only sometimes visible.

They spent the rest of the half-hour drive in silence. Jemma went back to staring out the window, so he leaned his head against the cold glass and looked out too, but all he could see were lights in the distance. It should have felt nice, coming home again. In a few days he’d be back in Scotland with his mum eating mince pies and crossing off items on the list of fix-it projects she always saved for his visits. He used to look so forward to it, counting down the days until his next flight. Yet with each passing year he was away, it felt more and more like his true home was no longer a place, but a person — the very person, as it happened, who was sitting next to him in the back seat of her mother’s car.

It wasn’t hard to spot the Simmons’ home as soon as they turned down Jemma’s old street. It was the only one with its lights still on. He could see the brightly lit tree in the front window from a few houses away. By the time they pulled into the drive it was quarter past eleven, but the house was still buzzing with activity despite the late hour. Fitz could hear the sounds of Christmas music and merriment before they even reached the front door.

“We’re here!” Dr. Simmons announced in a sing-song voice as soon as they crossed the threshold. 

They rolled their bags inside as the hall began to fill up with eager strangers. Suddenly self-conscious from all the attention, Fitz shrank back towards the door. Jemma picked up on his discomfort and gave his hand a squeeze. The comforting look in her warm brown eyes was all it took for him to feel steady again. At least they were in this together.

As they pushed through to the living room a young blonde woman about their age came up to greet them. Though he’d never met her, Fitz recognized her from pictures as Jemma’s cousin Claire. “Well, well,” she said cooly. “The prodigal daughter returns.”

“Claire,” Jemma said, embracing her cousin with stiff arms. “Good to see you.” 

Judging by her tone, it was anything but. Fitz had heard stories over the years about the lifelong rivalry between Jemma and her overly competitive cousin. Though Claire was two years older, she had gotten her PhD in biology around the same time Jemma was finishing her second. She’d even applied to Sci-Tech more than once, and been rejected by S.H.I.E.L.D. each time. Fitz couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her. It couldn’t have been easy growing up in the shadow of Jemma Simmons.

No sooner had their perfunctory hug ended than Claire turned her gaze to Fitz, appraising him from head to toe in a way that made him more than a little uncomfortable. “Congrats on the nuptials, by the way. Vegas wedding, I heard. How impulsive. Must have been terribly romantic.”

“It was,” he shot back, feeling the need to jump to Jemma’s defense for some reason. She gave him a look of gratitude and that was all he needed to continue. “We were . . . at a conference together. In Las Vegas. There was this lecture on developmental neurobiology and the speaker was an absolute arse, so full of himself. And Simmons, er, _Jemma_ , kept pointing out all the mistakes in his presentation. And I just looked over at her — the smartest, most beautiful person in the room — sitting next to me, just ripping this smug wanker to shreds, and . . . I knew. She was it for me. I proposed right there on the spot.”

He hadn’t noticed until he finished speaking, but his account had drawn an audience, and they were hanging on his every word. He didn’t have to try hard to make it convincing. With the exception of the location — the conference had been in Chicago, not Las Vegas — and the proposal at the end, the story was completely true. A collective sigh rippled through the crowd around them. To punctuate the sentiment, Jemma held up her hand so they could all admire the ring. In the midst of the “oohs” and “ahhs” she picked up where he left off.

“We didn’t want to wait, and since we were already in Vegas, we got in the car and drove to the nearest wedding chapel. Chapel of the Garden, I think it was.”

“No, Chapel of the Flowers,” Fitz corrected. That was the one Skye had hacked into to get them registered, so it was important to get it right.

“Right,” Jemma said, tapping the side of her head with her palm. “Silly me. Yes. It was the Chapel of the Flowers. Now I remember.” 

Claire looked skeptical. “You don’t remember the name of the place where you got married? Wasn’t this just a few days ago?”

“It was a very emotional day,” Jemma said defensively. “And they all look alike.”

“Enough about the wedding,” said one of the men in the crowd. He wagged his bushy eyebrows. “What about the honeymoon? Did you spring for one of them fancy suites with the heart-shaped bed?” 

Everyone hooted and hollered at that. Someone, he wasn’t sure who, elbowed Fitz in the ribs. The conversation was starting to take an awkward turn. They needed an exit strategy. What was it they’d decided on before?

“Dielectric polarization!” Fitz blurted out, remembering the safe word they’d come up with at the airport. They really had to figure out a better one. 

He suddenly felt every pair of eyes in the room on him, including Jemma’s, though hers were wide with recognition rather than confusion.

“What’s that, dear?” her mother asked him, voicing the question that seemed to be on everyone’s minds.

“Just . . . a continuation of a conversation we were having earlier,” Jemma covered. “You know us scientists. Busy minds, always working on something in the background. I think that’s an excellent solution to the problem, Fitz. Why don’t we take our things upstairs and work on it some more?”

“Wait!” an older woman called out. “Look where they’re standing.”

Fitz followed her withered finger up to a beam above them. Attached to it was a green sprig with white berries and a bright red ribbon. He groaned inwardly, hiding his face in his hand. Just when he thought the night couldn’t get any worse.

Jemma looked a little panicked, but their audience was insistent. He caught her eye, seeking permission. She gave him the tiniest of nods, but it was enough. With a shrug he leaned in and met her lips with his. And then he was kissing Jemma Simmons.

He only meant to give her a quick buss. Just one cursory brush of their lips to appease the masses and it would be over and done with. But something happened that derailed his plan and crowded out every rational thought in his brain. 

Jemma Simmons was kissing him back. 

There was no mistaking it. She was pressing herself up against him and kissing him back. The world around them dissolved into faint background noise, of no importance in the light of this new revelation of their mutual desire. He forgot all about the house full of cheering spectators. Forgot the mission and S.H.I.E.L.D. and Christmas and his own name. There was only Jemma and the incredible feeling of her lips sliding deftly against his. With each passing moment she became more insistent and he became more confident, applying additional pressure, exploring the length of her mouth from end to end, top to bottom. He felt like he was born to do this. Like he could spend his entire life doing nothing but this. 

It was all so confusing. And he couldn't think clearly enough to sort it out so long as she kept doing whatever amazing thing she was currently doing with her tongue. He pulled back slightly, hoping that might break the spell, but she looked at him with a kiss-drunk expression, and her lips were plump and red and he couldn't help going back in for one more taste.

Finally, after how long he had no idea, someone shouted, "Get a room!"

And then someone else chimed in, "They've already got one upstairs!"

They broke apart to the sound of raucous laughter.

He thought she’d been overdoing it a little before, suggesting they practice kissing before they had to do it in front of an audience. Now he understood, though clearly he needed it more than she did. She was really good at making it seem real. Their cover was safe, but it had left him with a whole mess of emotions to sort out. At least on his end. He had no idea how Jemma felt about all this. Which was the most worrying thing of all. Had he overstepped his bounds? Kissing her like he meant it, like he'd always wanted to. Would she be upset with him for getting carried away? 

Worse still, she wouldn’t look at him. He felt like he must be red to the tips of his ears, but he couldn’t tell if she was equally mortified. As his heart crashed back down to earth he cursed himself for letting loose all the things he usually kept safely tucked away. He was in danger of meeting the very fate he’d spent so much time and energy avoiding. He and Jemma were friends. Best friends and work partners. But that was all. No amount of pretending was ever going to change that. He only hoped his overactive libido hadn’t just screwed up the most important relationship of his life.

“Okay, you lot,” Dr. Simmons announced with great sweep of her hands. “Show’s over. Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

She gestured toward the door and everyone cheerily started gathering their coats. As the crowd cleared out with congratulations to the happy couple, compliments to their hostess, and holiday wishes all around, Fitz kept glancing over at Jemma, looking for a sign of where they stood. She was focused on playing the dutiful daughter, shaking hands and graciously accepting affectionate hugs from her parents’ friends and neighbors. He followed suit, until everyone was gone except Claire and an older woman he judged by the resemblance to be her mother, Jemma’s Aunt Vera.

“I’ll get the bags,” Fitz said to Jemma. She nodded distractedly, her face an impassive mask. “You can stay and catch up.”

He spared her another glance as he climbed the stairs with their suitcases. She was staring at the Christmas tree in the front window, biting her thumb, the way she always did when her mind was working through an especially complicated problem. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that, so he busied himself with his task and let her be.

When he came back down she was alone in the kitchen, warming up a plate in the microwave. She smiled easily as he entered and the world righted itself again. “All set?”

He rubbed his hands together. They were oddly sweaty. “Yep. No complications on the luggage front.”

“Excellent,” she said, generously ignoring his lame attempt at acting casual. The microwave beeped and she took out the plate. “Thought you might be hungry. It’s been hours since our last meal. If plane food even counts as a meal, which I’m not sure it does.”

Whatever had happened between them, it seemed to have passed. He could safely go back to ignoring his feelings, like he was used to. She set the plate down in front of him on the island — roast beef with gravy, Yorkshire pudding, glazed carrots, and fingerling potatoes. He took in a deep breath, inhaling the appetizing aromas. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the food was right in front of him. But there was only one plate.

“Aren’t you eating?” he asked, searching around for a fork before Jemma handed him one.

“Not just now. I thought I’d go up and check on my dad. He’s supposed to be sleeping, but I heard him stomping around earlier. Can’t get away with anything in this house.”

Fitz rested his elbow on the island, cradling his cheek in his hand. “Maybe we should shake the bed around tonight, give them something to talk about in the morning.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Fitz regretted them. They’d just returned to a sort of equilibrium, and here he was trying too hard and making stupid jokes about pretending to have sex in her childhood bedroom. But she didn’t seem to mind.

“Funny. Skye said the same thing.”

He chuckled before diving into his food with gusto, stabbing a potato with the fork and shoving it into his mouth. Then he tried the pudding and finally a bite of roast beef. It was all excellent.

“Mmm. Remind me to compliment your mum on her cooking tomorrow.”

“Are you trying to get in good with my mother?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” he said around a mouthful of carrots. “Besides, it’s true. This is really tasty.”

“She’ll be glad to know,” she said, rubbing his shoulder absently. He tried not to notice the way every nerve ending sizzled beneath her touch, even through his shirt. “If you’re all sorted here then, I’m going to head upstairs.”

“Okay,” he said, swirling a bit of pudding around in a pool of gravy. “I’ll meet you in the room.”

“And we can go over the mission files before bed.”

He rolled his head on his shoulders in protest. “Come on, Simmons. I’m knackered. Can’t we do it in the morning?” 

“You’re supposed to call me Jemma, remember?”

“Sorry. Still getting used to it. All of it.” He held up his left hand, brandishing the simple gold band that seemed to have thrown their entire relationship off kilter in a matter of hours.

“I know,” she said. Her eyes were soft and sympathetic and beautiful in this light. “Me too.”

“The files can wait. We’ll both be sharper with some rest.”

“Fine,” she conceded. “It’s probably better if we do it somewhere else anyway. Don’t want to disturb the whole house.” 

He heard what she wasn’t saying. There was a piece to this mission they hadn’t discussed yet. Roger Simmons headed a private biotech research lab, one that worked on highly classified projects for the British government, among other clients. Fitz didn’t know everything they did there, but he knew enough to suspect that it wasn’t a coincidence he’d suddenly come down with a virus of unknown origin. Fitz wasn’t sure how to bring it up to Jemma, though. She and her dad had always been close, and if he was somehow involved in the outbreak in Nevada, it wouldn’t be easy on her. That was the real reason he’d agreed to this whole bloody mission in the first place. So he could be there for her in case everything went pear-shaped.

She paused on her way out the door and turned to him. “Fitz? Are we okay?” 

She looked so vulnerable in that moment he had to fight the urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss all the doubt away. But that was something a boyfriend or a husband would do, and there was no one watching them, so he had no reason to act as if he were either one.

Instead, he offered her his most reassuring smile. “Course we are, Jemma.”

And with the words still echoing off the tile, she left him to his meal.

He’d nearly cleaned the plate when he sensed someone else joining him in the kitchen. Though his back was to the door, he knew it wasn’t Jemma. Instead, he turned to find her cousin striding toward the island. She picked up a stool from the other side and moved it around next to him.

“So you’re the famous Fitz,” she said, plopping down onto the stool. She was looking him over again, like he was a puzzle she was trying to solve.

He wasn’t sure if she expected an answer, but he gave her one anyway, just to be polite. “Yes. And you’re Claire. We were introduced earlier.” 

It was a flippant remark, hardly deserving of the laughter it elicited from her. She reached out and touched him lightly on the arm. “Jemma didn’t tell me you were funny. I can see why she loves you.”

He tensed. His immediate reflex was to deny the assumption, but then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to. “Yeah, well, no accounting for taste.”

He picked up his fork and focused on collecting the last remaining pieces of roast beef with it.

She let go of his arm and folded her hands over her crossed legs, musing, “Personally I think it’s refreshing to meet a man who isn’t intimidated by smart women.”

“Why would I be?” 

“Oh, you know. Men have such fragile egos these days. Bet you run into a lot of those types in your line of work.” She dipped her head and watched him carefully through her long lashes. 

He shrugged. “I suppose so.”

“How are things at S.H.I.E.L.D. these days? You two must spend an awful lot of time together. Working in the lab side by side all day long, and then after hours too.”

She was testing him. For some reason Claire hadn’t accepted their cover story as easily as the rest of the family had. Maybe she was jealous because Jemma had achieved yet another milestone before her. Or she was suspicious because she knew Jemma was too good to settle for someone like him. Whatever the case, it was crucial he didn’t blow it now. 

“We don't mind. In fact, I wish we could spend more time together. Work keeps us pretty busy.” He picked up his plate and fork and took them to the sink to wash up. 

“I can imagine. Although Jemma doesn’t talk about it much.”

“We can’t. It’s classified.” He didn’t look back as he scrubbed, probably a little harder than was necessary.

“Right. Of course,” she said to his back. “That was a nice story about the conference, though. Convenient, wasn’t it? Having such an epiphany that close to the spontaneous wedding capital of the world?”

“It worked out alright,” he said, turning around and wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “Almost as if it was meant to be.”

He smirked at her then, and didn’t care if it came off as self-satisfied. The guy he was pretending to be — who was happily married to Jemma Simmons and working side-by-side with her every day in a safe, non-mobile lab — would be the most contented bastard in the world.

Unfazed, Claire hopped off the stool and stepped closer to him, close enough to put her hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear, “Well, if the bloom ever leaves the rose, you know where to find me.” 

Then she turned on her heel and left him with his jaw on the floor. He shook his head vigorously, as if he could shake off the entire conversation. He could have sworn Claire looked at him the exact same way he’d looked at the plate of food Jemma had set down in front of him earlier. It was disconcerting. He’d have to do his best to avoid her over the next two days. 

He headed to the bedroom in a confused daze, anxious to tell Jemma what had happened and get her take on the odd interaction. The house was quiet as he climbed the stairs, making the creaking of the floorboards seem even louder. She wasn’t in the room yet, so he dressed for bed in long flannel pants and a T-shirt and brushed his teeth in the hall bathroom. He waited for her in the room for a while, but between the long flight, the jet lag, and the effort of being social, he could hardly keep his eyes open. Finally giving in to the exhaustion, he pulled the duvet and a pillow from the bed and made himself a nest on the floor. His thoughts raced through all the mad events of the day, coming back again and again to the most important highlight of the reel — the memory of their kiss under the mistletoe. He pressed his fingers to his lips, holding onto the feeling for as long as he could before drifting off to sleep.


	5. Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma finally find some time to talk about the mission. But they keep being distracted by family obligations, surprise visitors, and each other.

Jemma woke from a troubled sleep at the sound of someone moving around in her bedroom. Her whole body tensed until memories of the past few days came rushing back. Fitz. She had noticed him sleeping on the floor when she crept back in last night, trying not to disturb the sleeping household. She had so much to tell him, but he looked so peaceful curled up on the floor that she didn’t want to wake him. They would have plenty of time this morning.

The rustling on the floor continued and she finally whispered, “Good morning, Fitz.”

“Oh, you’re awake,” he whispered back.

Jemma swung her feet over the side of the bed and peered over at him. He seemed to be wriggling like a worm under the duvet. “What are you doing?”

“I, ah, just getting dressed.”

Jemma raised her eyebrows, ready to tease him, but then reconsidered. They had been best friends for a long time, but changing in front of each other had never been part of their repertoire. Until today she had never considered how much of an oversight that was. After a minute of silence, except for the sound of Fitz zipping his trousers, he got up and looked at her.

She could feel his eyes on her and it felt like he was burning a path across her skin without even touching her. The long sleeve shirt she wore kept the chill off her while she slept, but she hadn’t fully considered the effect of his gaze on her and the fabric was too thin for him not to have noticed the way her nipples pebbled.

She crossed her arms over her breasts so she could feel a little less self-conscious.

“I guess I shouldn’t go to the bathroom to get changed either.” She bit her lip, looking away from him. “Can you turn around?” 

Fitz turned his back to her and she almost groaned. How did he look so good first thing in the morning?

Turning her attention to her own clothing, she plucked a pair of jeans and a blouse out of her suitcase. There would be time to get changed into something more appropriate for dinner later.

Feeling more collected now that they were both fully dressed, Jemma tried to organize her thoughts about her conversation with her father the night before. There was so much she needed to tell Fitz.

But before she could speak, he said, “Simmons, we need to talk.”

“About the mission? I need to talk to you as well. But not here.” She took a look around her room, and then shook her head. There wasn’t anyone in the room with them to overhear their conversation.

“Not about the mission,” he said, looking everywhere but at her.

“Fitz? What’s wrong?” She reached for his hand, trying to figure out what could have possibly gone wrong already. Unless he could tell she had been looking at his bum. Or maybe it was the kiss. Maybe he was regretting it. But then he squeezed her hand and looked her in the eye.

“It’s your cousin,” he said slowly.

“Claire?”

“She, ah, cornered me in the kitchen last night.” For some reason Fitz’s thumb was rubbing over her hand and it was very distracting.

“She might be annoying and competitive, but I’m pretty sure she’s harmless.”

“No...I think she might have been hitting on me.”

Fitz blushed and looked at her significantly, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what was significant here.

“Well...if you are interested in her, then, I suppose…” Jemma felt a weight in her stomach. This was ridiculous. He was her _pretend_ husband. “I won’t stand in the way. After our mission is over and a suitable time has passed after I tell my parents about our divorce.”

Fitz’s hand tightened on hers, but he didn’t say anything right away.

“I’m not --”

“It’s fine, Fitz. I’m sure she’s perfectly lovely. She’s just always awful to me because our mums are so competitive. Anything I have, she wants.” Jemma almost bit her tongue, tripping over those words. “Not that you’re mine.”

Fitz appeared to be staring at something over her shoulder, but his hand was still wrapped around hers.

“I’m not attracted to her,” he said firmly.

“It would be perfectly natural if you were. She’s objectively quite pretty. She’s smart, too. She has a PhD in biology.”

Fitz was giving her a strange look, so she stopped talking.

“Jemma, I told you I’m not interested in her. I wouldn’t date your cousin after being married to you.”

Even though they weren’t actually married, his words made her feel warm inside.

“Besides,” he continued, “my wife is the smartest person I know.”

“You are only saying that because we’re fake married,” she teased, and the strange tension in the air faded a little.

“I would never!” He gave her a small smile and released her hand. “What did you want to talk about?”

She had almost forgotten about their mission here. She really needed to stop being distracted by Fitz. That had never happened before. He was the one that kept her grounded, and now every time she looked at him her head ended up in the clouds. Being home made everything different. So had kissing him, she supposed.

“We shouldn’t talk here. There is a bakery in town. At least there was. It has been a long time since I’ve been home. Let’s go get tea and scones. We can go over the files and I’ll fill you in on what I learned last night.”

Thirty minutes later they were sitting across from each other with proper tea and festive looking scones. The bakery was fairly quiet given that it was Christmas Eve morning, but Jemma still felt on edge. There were still plenty of people around Sheffield who would recognize her — her old friends, her mother’s friends — so they had to maintain their cover.

Fitz swiped his finger over the tablet and entered his passcode before pulling up all the files Coulson had sent. 

“Can you also access the results for those samples we tested before we left? I haven’t had a chance to review them yet.”

“Yeah...sure,” Fitz mumbled, not looking up. 

Jemma moved her chair closer to his so they could both see the screen and as she did she noticed a man ordering at the counter. His gaze locked on hers when she looked up and Jemma felt adrenaline surge through her. 

Could someone have discovered why they were here?

She pressed her thigh against Fitz’s and reached for his hand. All they had to do was sell their cover. There was no reason for anyone to be suspicious. They were just newlyweds enjoying some time together. 

Leaning close to Fitz’s ear, she whispered, “That man over there is looking at us. I think you should kiss me.”

Fitz turned towards her, but before he could respond she pressed her lips to his. She felt the same jolt she had felt the night before when they kissed under the mistletoe, and then his hand came up to her cheek. 

He was so warm and solid next to her, their bodies touching and their mouths exploring one another. His tongue pushed into her mouth and heat flooded her. He really did take their conversation about how to sell their cover seriously. He was fully committed to the _not_ prim and proper kiss. 

She could have kissed him like that all day, and they only separated when a throat was cleared loudly next to them. 

“Jemma Simmons, is that you?”

Jemma looked up at the intruder, blinking a few times to clear the kiss-induced fog that was keeping her brain from processing anything except the feel of Fitz next to her and the way his hand was now resting lightly on her thigh. 

“It _is_ you! I had heard a rumor that you had gotten married, but I never expected to run into you here.”

“Jonathan?” Jemma’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I didn’t recognize you. It must have been 10 years since I last saw you.”

“It has been a long time. Far too long,” he said smoothly.

Jemma smiled at Jonathan, relieved that it was just an old friend and not something more sinister. But then Fitz moved away from her and the sudden distance chilled her more than the winter weather. 

“Hello, I’m Fitz. Jemma’s husband.”

Fitz had extended his hand and Jonathan shook it. 

“I’m Jonathan. Jemma’s oldest friend.”

“Funny...she’s never mentioned you,” Fitz said with a slight grimace on his face. 

Jemma interjected herself back into the conversation, not sure what was happening. “Jonathan is the son of dad’s old partner at the lab. We spent a lot of time together growing up.”

“Well, I just wanted to say congratulations to you two.” Turning to Fitz, he added, “Jemma’s a great girl. You’re lucky to have her.”

After Jonathan walked away, with one last smile for her, an uncomfortable silence descended. 

“We should…” Jemma gestured at the tablet.

Fitz said something unintelligible, but handed her the tablet with her father’s medical records pulled up.

“Skye certainly is thorough,” Jemma said dryly, scanning through the file. “I don’t see anything here that we didn’t already know though. Here.”

She handed the tablet back to Fitz and he pulled up the results on the samples they had run. He set it between them on the table and took a bite of his scone, and Jemma lifted her tea to her lips to take a drink, pulling it back when she noticed something familiar about the test results.

“Fitz, this looks familiar. Where have we seen this before?”

Fitz glanced down and then back at Jemma.

“Bloody hell...it looks like the Chitauri virus. But it’s different here,” he said, pointing to the screen.

Jemma dropped her head into her hands and massaged her temples. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“Jemma, it’s alright.” His hand was on her back, rubbing small circles over her spine. It felt wonderful, but it didn’t change the fact that all of the pieces were falling into place in her mind, and it added up to something she didn’t want to accept.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her head. “It isn’t alright,” she said. “My father is involved in this.”

“You can’t know that, Jemma,” he said, shaking his head and taking her hand again.

“I do,” she said miserably. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about. When I went to see him last night, he told me he was supervising a project that he was starting to feel uncomfortable with.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound --”

“Fitz! He said he got a shock in the lab the day before he got sick.”

“Oh,” Fitz breathed.

“The shock, his symptoms matching what we saw in the desert, his company working on a secretive project. It all adds up.”

“But how do they even know about the Chitauri virus? That’s classified. I mean, aren’t we the only ones who know about it?”

Jemma sighed. “That’s the worst part. This is all my fault.”

Even though she couldn’t see him, she could hear him rolling his eyes when he said, “You aren’t responsible for everything. This isn’t your fault.”

He wrapped an arm around her and Jemma leaned into his warmth. “But this time it is. I am the one who emailed my father about being sick. _I_ told him about the virus.”

“So you think your father modified the virus and exposed all of those people?” he asked.

“No...no, I don’t think so. He told me he didn’t know what the project was about, so it’s possible he doesn’t even know they were working on the virus. But we should still alert Coulson. It’s protocol. Have Skye hack into his files and emails --.”

Fitz kissed her temple and brought his lips close to her ear. He really was quite good at being undercover. She almost believed they were a couple.

Fitz’s breath was hot on her ear. “Screw protocol. This is your dad, Jemma. If you don’t think he is hiding anything, then we keep looking. He’s a victim here, too.”

Jemma turned to look at him, searching his face while she asked, “Do you think so?” 

“Yeah...course. Why would he be the only person on this side of the pond to have these symptoms? It sounds like he got suspicious and the wrong person noticed.”

“But that means he could still be in danger.”

“Yeah...but we’re here now. Nothing will happen to him. And you can make a vaccine...excuse me, antiserum, right?”

Jemma frowned. “Yes, I could, from my blood...if I had a lab. The virus was obviously modified, though, since no one has died, so it might take some time to formulate a new antiserum. But why would anyone modify the Chitauri virus?”

“No idea, but that sounds like our plan for now. Look for any connections between your father and whoever is developing this virus. And when we get an opportunity, formulate a new antiserum. But...maybe we should head back now, just in case.”

Jemma nodded, knowing he was right, but not feeling quite ready to go back home where her mum, Aunt Vera, and Claire would be lying in wait for them to return. He reached for her hand as they returned to the car, and somehow they managed to keep touching until they walked back into the house hand in hand.

“About time you came back,” Claire said, as soon as they entered the hall and pulled off their coats. “No trouble in paradise, I hope.”

“We were just taking advantage of some time alone,” Jemma said awkwardly, dropping Fitz’s hand to squeeze his bum.

“Jemma!” he shouted, clearly shocked. She’d have to apologize for that later. But for now it was worth it to see the look that passed over Claire’s face.

“I think your mother was looking for you, cousin. Something about you promising to help with dinner.”

“Right...I did do that.” She knew she should go, but she didn’t want to leave Fitz alone with Claire, and from the way he had wrapped his arm around her waist, it seemed like he didn’t want to be left with Claire either. “Did you want to join me, husband?”

“That I would, wife,” he responded, with only a moment’s hesitation. 

Once they were safely in the kitchen, Jemma’s mum assigned them tasks to prepare the meal while Vera looked on, sipping a glass of white wine and offering advice as they worked.

“Jemma, dear, it’s so nice to have you home,” her mum said, giving her a hug. “And Fitz really is quite the catch.”

Jemma looked over to where Fitz was chopping vegetables near where her father was sitting at the counter, trying to fix her mum’s blender that was acting up. She could almost feel Fitz twitching with the need to step in and fix it himself. He would have already done it...and made it better. But he also understood that wasn’t what her father needed right now so he was limiting his involvement to offering helpful suggestions. 

“He really is,” Jemma said with a smile.

“So handsome, helpful in the kitchen, and you two are so in love. I knew you two would get married someday. And I was sure of it after —“

“Oh, ouch!” 

Everyone’s attention turned to Jemma’s father, who was holding his hand up, blood dripping onto the counter. 

Jemma moved instinctively, calling instructions to Fitz as she moved. Right now, the three of them were the only ones who knew about the virus and two of them had been injected with an antiserum for the original, unmodified virus. It was unlikely that they would get infected again. But no one else in the house needed to be in danger. She assumed it was transmitted by electric shock, so as long as everyone else kept their distance they shouldn’t be in any danger. But with the modifications she couldn’t be sure. Better safe than sorry. 

Fitz was beside her with everything she had asked for while she examined her father’s hand. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding quite a bit. Staunching the blood with a clean towel, she washed the cut for him and once she had finished her mother handed her bandages. 

“Thanks mum,” she said, wrapping his hand. “Keep it elevated and change the bandage at least once a day until it’s healed.”

“Thank you, Jemma. How do we manage without you?” she asked dryly. 

Jemma froze at the accusation there, but her father patted her hand in a conciliatory gesture and she smiled at him. At least someone appreciated her. And her mother didn’t know the entire story. 

“I can help you fix that blender, Mr. Simmons.”

“I’d appreciate that, Fitz. I think I can talk you through it.”

Jemma was about to tell her father that Fitz was perfectly capable of fixing a blender...in his sleep. But then Fitz pressed something into her hand. It was the wrapped up towel she had used to stop the bleeding and she realized it was also the blood sample they needed to be able to compare her father’s blood to the other samples they had tested. How was Fitz able to pretend to be married, handle her family, and keep on top of the mission? She could hardly keep her emotions in check. 

The rest of the meal preparations went smoothly. Fitz, of course, was able to fix the blender. Her mum was so impressed that it worked better than ever, that Aunt Vera felt the need to make a dig about Fitz spending his time fixing small appliances rather than doing something more important. 

Once again, Jemma was ready to come to his defense, but he pulled her into a quick kiss and said something sweet about how helping her parents _was_ something important. 

When the six of them finally sat down to dinner, Jemma was more than ready to escape upstairs with Fitz. She wondered if there was some way to leverage their newlywed status to get out of this family dinner, but Fitz probably wouldn’t come with her. He was heaping compliments on her mum before dinner even started. She remembered how much he had loved the leftovers her mum left the night before. There was no way she could pry him away from a home-cooked meal. So she didn’t bother trying. 

Since it was Christmas Eve the wine flowed freely. It wasn’t her favorite, but it would do. And one of the benefits of having wine at dinner was that Vera and Claire were less competitive and laughed more. Sitting beside Fitz, their hands brushing as they passed food and their feet nudging against each other under the table, dinner was almost enjoyable. 

It was all part of their cover, of course. Claire was staring daggers at them every time they exchanged an innocent touch, and Jemma had to admit she got a perverse sense of satisfaction seeing how upset Claire seemed to be. 

But that wasn’t fair. When this was all over Claire would have Jemma’s failed marriage to rub in her face...and she’d never be able to explain the truth. At least she’d still have Fitz. No matter what happened here in Sheffield. 

“So, Fitz...when did you first realize you were in love with Jemma? Was it love at first sight?” her aunt asked. 

Fitz seemed startled. They hadn’t discussed how they would answer these types of questions. Jemma held her breath. 

“Oh, ah, no. Not love at first sight. I’m not sure such a thing exists. Love comes from trust, and knowing someone better than you know yourself.” He took her hand then, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “And knowing that you can’t picture your life without that person.”

“So, when did this happen? You’ve only been married a few days, right? Did you just realize you loved her this week?” This time it was Claire pushing for an answer. 

“No, of course not. I’ve been in love with Jemma since we were 17. I just didn’t know how to tell her.”

The laughter and friendly teasing from around the table masked Jemma’s gasp. Fitz had sounded so genuine. And she thought he’d consumed far too much alcohol to successfully lie, but he did have a pretty high tolerance. She shouldn’t have worried. 

“And what about you, Jemma?” her mum asked. “When did you realize Fitz was the one?”

Damn it. Jemma hoped no one would think to ask her after Fitz’s romantic response. She knew she was a terrible liar. Might as well just tell the truth then. 

“It took some time, I suppose. Love, real love, doesn’t happen overnight. It was around the time I first told you we were together. We were working late in the lab on an important project and I looked over at Fitz. He was frowning at his computer, but when he looked at me he smiled. That’s when I realized that feeling of always wanting to be beside him was love...and that it would last forever.”

Fitz wrapped an arm around her and she leaned into him again, breathing in the smell of soap and Fitz. He really was wonderful. She could let herself pretend a little bit. Just for tonight. She relaxed into his embrace and imagined what it would feel like if everything she told her parents was actually true. But it was no use. She wasn’t with Fitz. She didn’t work in a safe, non-mobile lab. And they weren’t on holiday. 

She couldn’t keep up the ruse. It was time to get Fitz alone. Then she could just be herself. 

“It’s getting late,” she said, with a suggestive look at her “husband.” 

“Oh, er, it is,” he agreed. 

“I suppose the newlyweds don’t have time to spend on family gatherings,” Aunt Vera suggested. 

“We can help wash up,” Fitz offered, but Jemma’s mum waved him off. 

“You two have done more than enough around here today. We just need to open our Christmas Eve gifts.”

“Christmas Eve gifts?” Fitz asked, looking around.

“Oh, no, mum. You didn’t.”

“Of course I did, dear. It’s tradition.”

Fitz still looked confused so Jemma explained, “Mum always buys everyone matching pajamas for Christmas. We open them on Christmas Eve and then wear them down to breakfast on Christmas Day.”

“Except me, of course,” interjected Vera, “I only sleep in silk. Cotton is too rough for my skin.”

Her mum bustled back into the room with an armful of gifts and handed one to each of them.

Jemma exchanged a pained look with Fitz before carefully unwrapping the gift. As far as pajamas went, these weren’t too bad. Red and green plaid flannel pants with a solid red top. Festive without being overtly Christmasy. Glancing over at Fitz she saw his set was similar but with a plaid button down pajama shirt as well. She couldn’t quite judge his reaction, but she would guess matching pajamas weren’t high on his Christmas list.

She stood and reached for Fitz’s hand.

“Thanks, mum. We really appreciate you making this visit so special.”

“We’ll see you in the morning, darlings,” her mum said, with a quick hug for Jemma and one for Fitz. 

Saying her good nights to everyone, Jemma walked toward the stairs, and caught Claire giving Fitz some sort of flirty finger wave goodbye. How dare that little tart flirt with _her_ husband! With Fitz, she amended. 

She stormed up to her room, grateful she could hear Fitz coming up the stairs behind her. 

“We should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, just toss me a pillow and the duvet again—“

“Don’t be ridiculous, Fitz. You can sleep in the bed. I would have told you that last night, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“If you’re sure that’s alright.”

“Of course I’m sure, Fitz,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We are adults who are perfectly capable of sharing a bed.”

She didn’t add that she just wanted to be near him tonight. So much had happened today and she needed him nearby. 

They turned in opposite directions to change into their new pajamas and then slipped down the hall one at a time to use the bathroom. 

When Jemma returned to her room for the night, Fitz was already in bed, laying on his back on the side closest to the wall. She flipped the lights off and climbed into bed. The space was much smaller than she had thought. Or Fitz was taking up more space than she’d realized he would. She couldn’t lay comfortably without touching him. He was so warm and she wanted to curl into him. Maybe it was the wine, or Christmas, or the way he was so wonderful with her family and oh so romantic. But she let herself be pulled toward him, allowing her fingers to brush against him as she settled down beside him. He didn’t say anything, but he shifted slightly and took her hand in his.

“Goodnight, Fitz,” she said softly, confusion clouding her thoughts. 

“Goodnight, Jemma,” he echoed. 

She resolved to keep her distance from him. At least while they slept. In the morning they’d be exchanging gifts and spending another day with her family. 

But for all of her good intentions, she woke up in Fitz’s arms. His surprisingly strong arms. Her head was tucked into his shoulder and he was holding her tightly against him. She didn’t dare move. They had never done this before, but it felt really nice. She didn’t want it to end because she woke him up. So she focused her efforts on breathing slowly and closed her eyes again, willing herself back to sleep. When he woke up she could pretend she didn’t know they were cuddled close to one another. 

But then his fingers stroked up her arm, and she felt him shift. He was already awake, and he hadn’t dislodged her the moment he realized the position they were in. Before she could even begin to fathom what that might mean, there was a knock at the door. 

“Rise and shine,” her mum called. “We’re opening presents in 20 minutes.”

Jemma groaned and tried to sit up, but Fitz’s arms held her back.

“Oh...sorry,” he said, releasing her. “We must have gotten, um, tangled up in the middle of the night.”

“I thought we managed fairly well for such a small bed,” she answered, hoping he didn’t feel too uncomfortable with waking up like that.

Jemma snagged one of Fitz’s old cardigans from her bag, and trudged down the hall to the bathroom. When she returned, she saw that Fitz had gotten his hair mostly under control and looked completely delicious just out of bed. He headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She bit her lip, considering. Maybe they should have gotten dressed after all before heading downstairs. She wasn’t a child anymore and going down to breakfast in their pajamas after spending the night in the same bed felt a little more intimate than she thought it would, but it was too late now.

When they walked downstairs, hand in hand, it seemed that everyone was already there waiting for them. After a quick breakfast her mum started handing out presents and pointed Jemma towards the gifts that she had placed under the tree the day before -- the present she had brought for Fitz along with the one he had for her.

When she had picked out the cardigan for Fitz, she hadn’t expected to have an audience...or for it to be the first gift she gave to her husband. But there was nothing she could do about it now. She handed the carefully wrapped gift to Fitz and he smiled, already knowing what he would find inside.

“So, Jemma. . .how long do you think you’ll let me keep this before you steal it?” There was a gleam in his blue eyes and she wanted to kiss that smirk off his face.

“What makes you think I’d do such a thing?”

He carefully unwrapped the paper and held up the blue cardigan she had picked out. The one that she thought would bring out the blue of his eyes. He reached out to tug at the hem of the cardigan she currently had wrapped around her, and there was laughter.

Jemma had forgotten about their audience.

“Well, yours are always warmer,” she said with a shrug.

“Here, Jemma. This one’s for you,” Fitz said, handing her a rectangular package. “And I promise I won’t steal it from you.”

She pulled off the paper and stared at the book in her hands, the 1935 edition of _Introduction to Quantum Mechanics with Applications to Chemistry_ by Linus Pauling, and then looked questioningly at Fitz.

“You mentioned that you wanted to read this, so I thought…”

“Yes, but how did you remember? That conversation must have been three years ago.”

“You obviously remember the conversation, too. And I don’t forget any of the important things we talk about,” he said.

“This is a really sweet gift, Fitz. Thank you.” She leaned over to give him a kiss, and froze as there was a knock on the door.

“I wonder who would be visiting so early on Christmas Day?” her mum asked, walking towards the front door.

It was only seconds later that Jemma heard a familiar voice and turned toward Fitz with wide eyes.

“Jemma, dear,” her mother called out, confusion evident in her voice. “You have a visitor.”

Jemma and Fitz hurried towards the door.

“What are you doing here?” Jemma asked in a low voice, not wanting her question to carry back to the rest of her family, especially Claire and Vera.

“Everything okay?” Fitz added.

“Surprise! Merry Christmas! Or is it Happy Christmas over here? I can never remember,” Skye said with an uncomfortable smile.


	6. Fitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt this holiday celebration to bring you some actual spy work and a little progress on the mission. You know, the real reason FitzSimmons are in Sheffield. Yeah, they keep forgetting too.

As Fitz and Jemma stood in the doorway staring at their unexpected visitor in shock, Aunt Vera’s voice came squawking from inside: “Close the door already! You’re letting in all the cold air!”

It was indeed freezing out, and they hadn’t thought to put on their coats, but whatever it was that brought Skye to the Simmons’ front door on Christmas morning, it probably wasn’t something they wanted the whole family to hear. So they stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind them. Fitz hugged his shoulders, trying not to shiver. Jemma did the same, although at least she had his old cardigan as an extra layer. He nearly put his arm around her so they could share their warmth, before catching himself. He’d become so used to their married-couple act he’d forgotten they didn’t need to keep it up in front of Skye.

“Are you guys wearing matching PJs?” Skye pointed back and forth between them, letting out a laugh. It was more friendly than mocking, but it still made Fitz want to rush back into the house and change. “You look adorable.”

“A Simmons family tradition, apparently,” he grumbled, breath escaping in brisk puffs of white.

“Ah,” Skye said, the mirthful light in her eyes darkening a bit. “I wouldn’t know. No family, no traditions.”

Fitz immediately felt bad. He had his mum, and now he’d been welcomed into Jemma’s family too, and here he was complaining to Skye, of all people. Jemma look chastened as well.

“Sorry, Skye,” she said, reaching out to rub her arm comfortingly. “But really. Why are you here?”

Skye shook her head and inhaled a breath of chilly air. Some of her earlier cheer seemed to return in the excitement of the news she had to deliver. “Okay, I ran a program comparing the virus from the samples you tested with the records in our database and found a match. You’ll never guess what it is.”

They shrugged and answered in unison, nodding as if it was obvious, “The Chitauri virus.”

Her outstretched hands balled into fists and fell to her side. “Oh. So maybe you can guess.”

“I hope you didn’t come all this way on Christmas just to tell us something we already knew,” Fitz said.

“No. I also brought you guys something.” She pulled the backpack she was carrying around to the front and started to unzip it.

Jemma smiled. “Aww, you shouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t. It isn’t presents. It’s these. Although now I’m kind of wishing I’d thought of that.”

She extracted a sample bag containing a half a dozen vials of blood from her backpack and handed it to him. He made a face and passed it off to Jemma as fast as he could.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” Jemma asked.

“We’re tracking another outbreak of the virus. This time in Arizona. Coulson wants you to take a look at them and compare the results to the ones from before.” 

Jemma looked affronted. “I can’t test these here. I’m not a walking chemistry lab!”

“Doesn’t your dad work in a lab? Could we sneak in and use their equipment?”

“But it’s Christmas,” Fitz whined. 

Their trip so far had been like something out of a dream, and not just because of the new little intimacies he got to experience with Jemma, but also having her family accept him so easily as one of their own. Eating her mum’s cooking, helping her dad around the house, even the bloody pajamas, which, he had to admit, were kind of comfy. If he didn’t think about it too much he could pretend it was all real. But now, with Skye here and the mission shifting into high gear, he sensed that their fantasy Christmas holiday as newlyweds was about to come to a screeching halt.

“Wait, that could actually work in our favor,” Jemma said. He could see the gears turning behind her eyes. She was already in mission mode. “We need to test the sample from my dad and create the antiserum anyway. And the building should be deserted today. It’s a perfect opportunity.”

“But can we get in and out undetected?” Fitz wondered aloud, bouncing on his toes. He really wished his new pajamas had pockets. “Security’s bound to be pretty tight, even on a holiday.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that or I’d have to be offended. Who do you think you’re talking to?” She unzipped her backpack further to show off her laptop, then zipped it up again and swung it around to her back.

Was he the only one who was worried about this break-in plan? “What if we get caught?” 

“I can say I was doing a favor for my dad.” Jemma sounded unconcerned. Which was most definitely concerning. 

“Yeah, and if that doesn’t work, we’ve got May for backup.”

“May is here?” Fitz said, looking around before realizing it was foolish to assume he’d be able to detect Agent May anywhere if she didn’t want to be seen.

“Yep. Well, not here, here. She’s waiting in the quinjet.”

“Give us a few hours,” Jemma said. “We’ll make an excuse to get away and meet you at the lab.”

Just then, they heard a noise from inside and the door cracked open. Jemma quickly hid the sample bag behind her, tucking it into the waistband of her pajama bottoms. Claire’s blonde head soon appeared, sizing up Skye with a glance before turning her attention to her cousin. Jemma smiled at her, rather unconvincingly in Fitz’s opinion.

“Your mum wants to know if your friend is staying for lunch,” Claire said in a flat, uninterested tone.

The voice of Dr. Simmons echoed through the hall. “No, no. I said to _invite_ her to stay for lunch! Honestly, Claire. Where are your manners?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jemma’s mum is inviting you to lunch. Whoever you are.”

“This is Skye . . . my roommate. Well, flatmate I guess. But she’s American. So roommate it is.” Fitz put his hand on her arm, a gesture he hoped would look supportive while also stemming the tide of her rambling. She pursed her lips. “Skye, my cousin, Claire.”

Skye gave Claire an awkward wave. “That is such a nice offer, but I can’t stay.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”

Skye hesitated for less than a second before answering, “Jemma . . . left something at home and I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d bring it to her.”

Claire opened the door further and crossed her arms in front of her. “You were in the neighborhood? On Christmas? What did she leave behind that was so important? And why do you two have to discuss it out here in your pajamas?”

Fitz’s fingers and toes were starting to go numb. He wrapped his hands around each other and blew into them, wishing Claire would quit her interrogation already so they could go back inside. 

“My phone charger,” Jemma hastily offered. She really was a terrible liar. 

Fitz figured he should jump in to support her story. “So forgetful, this one. Always leaving things behind. Aren’t you, Jems?”

He’d never called her that before. It just rolled off his tongue in the moment. He could tell it took her by surprise, but she hid it well.

“There are, like, three phone chargers in this house alone,” Claire said. “You could have borrowed one.”

“But this one is special,” Jemma explained, unable to stop herself from digging a deeper hole. “Fitz gave it to me as a gift and it just means so much to me. I didn’t want to be without it for the holidays.”

Skye reached into her backpack again and handed Jemma a black cable. “There you go, roomie,” she said, with unnecessary emphasis on the last word. “Try to remember it next time, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much for dropping by,” Jemma said, before adding, “Happy Christmas, Skye.”

“Happy Christmas to you guys too. Guess I’ll . . . be on my way then.” She resettled her backpack on her shoulders, grabbing the straps firmly, and set off down the path.

Fitz didn’t stick around to watch her leave. He pushed into the house, letting the warm air and the smell of food envelop him once inside. Through the half-open door he heard Jemma shout, “We’ll be in touch!” and then she joined him in the foyer. Claire came soon after, frowning in a way that bore a striking resemblance to Jemma’s expression when she was working something out.

Jemma passed on Skye’s thanks for the invitation and apology for the hasty retreat to her mother. Dr. Simmons seemed disappointed but moved on quickly, as she had a Christmas lunch to prepare. Fitz and Jemma took turns changing upstairs, then helped out in the kitchen and set the table. By the time they all sat down to enjoy their meal, Fitz thought they’d successfully put the matter of their mysterious visitor behind them. He should have known better.

“So the young woman at the door, that was the same Skye I spoke to on the phone the other day?” Jemma’s mother said almost as soon as the last dish hit the table.

“It was,” Jemma answered nonchalantly. “Could you please pass the Brussels sprouts?” 

Jemma’s father handed her the bowl. “And you two work together?” he asked.

Fitz was trying to pay attention to the conversation, he really was, but there were so much tempting food being shoved in his direction, and although he’d eaten his fill at breakfast, he found he was hungry again. He grabbed a warm roll from a basket and looked around for some butter to spread on it. 

Meanwhile, Jemma was deflecting her parents’ questions as best she could. “Yes. Here you go, Fitz,” she said, handing him the butter dish. 

Claire spoke up then, in that way that was starting to grate on Fitz’s last nerve. “I thought you said she was your roommate.”

Jemma’s eyes darted to him, then back to her cousin. “She’s both. We live together and work together. It’s quite an efficient arrangement, really.”

“Guess she’ll be finding a new place to live now,” Jemma’s mother said, spooning a baked apple onto her plate.

“Why would she?” Jemma asked without thinking. Fitz shifted his knee against Jemma’s underneath the table and she realized her mistake. “Oh, right. Because of the . . . because we’re . . . Well, I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it yet.”

“You’re not planning to live together are you? All three of you?” Aunt Vera looked scandalized at the very thought. 

“If we were, I suppose that would be our decision now wouldn’t it?” Everyone turned to Fitz. It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d all sat down and the sharpness of his tone surprised even him. He wiped his hands on a napkin and tossed it down next to his plate. He knew he was close to crossing the line, but he didn’t care. Jemma didn’t deserve this inquisition. 

The silence hovered awkwardly over the table like a cloud before Jemma’s mother deftly changed the subject. “Speaking of homes, Vera, how is your kitchen project coming along? Did you ever find that porcelain tile you were dreaming of?”

Not one to miss an opportunity to boast, Vera launched into a description of her latest home improvement project, sparing no lavish detail. Fitz was relieved to no longer be the center of attention, but spending the rest of Christmas Day at the Simmons’ home was quickly losing its appeal. Jemma’s parents were fine, of course, but her cousin’s close scrutiny made him uncomfortable and Aunt Vera wasn’t much better. Maybe Skye’s plan wasn’t so bad after all. Breaking into a top-secret, possibly nefarious, laboratory sounded better right now than dodging pointed looks from Claire and her mother all afternoon. 

Lunch proceeded without further incident or mention of Skye. Just before they wrapped up the meal, Jemma handed Fitz a Christmas cracker and they tugged on it together until it came apart with a snap. Jemma got the larger half and excitedly pulled out the pink paper crown inside. She beamed as she unfolded it and put it on with an adorable flourish. Fitz had to laugh. He knew his affection was written all over his face, but for once he didn’t bother to hide it.

As they began clearing the dishes, Jemma’s expression grew serious. She took off her crown and nodded in the direction of her mother. It was time to establish their cover for leaving to meet the team at the lab. He held back as she carried a stack of plates into the kitchen, listening to the sound of the water running and the clinking of china and silver. There was talking too, but he couldn’t make out the words. 

A few minutes later, Jemma came out alone and gave him a thumbs up. They walked together toward the staircase, heads close and voices down.

“All good, then?” Fitz whispered.

“I told her it was the anniversary of our first date and we wanted some alone time,” she said. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her cheeks turning pink. “I’m supposed to be taking you to the Christmas Market. That should give us a few hours at least.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his face. “Our first date was on Christmas?”

Jemma tilted her head playfully. “Why not?”

“So, ah, where did we go on this date?”

“I didn’t really get into the details.”

“I think I would have taken you out to dinner,” he said, stopping at the staircase and turning to face her. He reached out to grasp the artichoke-shaped finial atop the banister for support, but misjudged the distance and stumbled forward a little. So much for his attempt to look suave. “Somewhere . . . nice.”

The color in her face deepened and spread to her neck, but she didn’t look away. She fixed her eyes on his and said, “I think I would have liked that.” 

They stood there at the foot of the stairs, staring at each other, caught in a moment between real and pretend. Fitz was afraid to move for fear of ruining it. The way she was looking at him made him want to live in that moment forever. But he knew it couldn’t last. Just as he was wondering who would flinch first, an alert signaling an incoming text on both their phones made the question irrelevant. They looked away at the same time.

It was a message from Skye, asking when they would be able to meet.

“I’ll text her back,” Fitz said, already starting to type. “How long do you think we’ll need? Half an hour? More?”

“Half an hour should be fine. We’d better get ready.” 

They collected the samples from Jemma’s room, along with the tablet containing the data on the virus, a few handy gadgets, and some other supplies they might need. While Jemma snuck into her father’s home office to lift his keycard, Fitz unzipped a concealed compartment in one of their bags and extracted a set of earpieces so they could stay in touch and a pair of ICERs, just in case. When she returned, they strapped the guns to their hips, pulling on thick jumpers to cover the bulge, and hid their earpieces beneath woolen beanies. With their winter coats and scarves on they looked like they were simply going out for a nice holiday stroll.

As luck would have it, they managed to slip out of the house without encountering anyone on the way. Jemma’s dad had already gone back to bed and her mother was looking in on him. Vera was in the sitting room watching the Queen’s address on TV and there was no sign of Claire, for which Fitz was grateful. Jemma had convinced her mother to loan them the car for the evening since no one else would be needing it. She took the driver’s seat, while Fitz went over the mission brief again.

But the details of the mission lost their appeal when he realized that while Jemma’s eyes were on the road he could stare at her without feeling self-conscious. Something was changing between them, and something told him she felt it too. He thought it would be easy, pretending to be married. Everyone always said they bickered like an old married couple anyway. In a way, he'd been right. Going through the motions of being a romantic couple came as naturally as breathing. But in other ways it was turning out to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. Every precious moment of the trip was burned into his memory now. How could he forget what it was like to wake up with her in his arms? To touch her or hold her hand whenever he wanted? To kiss her? But what choice did he have? Once this mission was over they’d go back to being just friends. End of story. 

Except maybe it wasn’t. He thought about how she’d looked at him at the bottom of the stairs and a tendril of hope unfurled in his chest. What if it didn’t have to be the end? What if was just the beginning? He spent the rest of the drive turning the problem over in his head, unable to come up with a solution that didn’t depend heavily on factors that were far from certain.

They arrived at the lab almost exactly thirty minutes after he’d texted Skye. She and May were waiting for them behind a screen of snow-covered bushes on the north side of the building. Skye already had her laptop open to a live feed from the security cameras inside and a spectral image of the interior.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait until tonight to do this?” Fitz asked, looking around nervously.

“It’ll look less suspicious if we’re caught in the daytime,” May said.

“Right. Because sneaking into a lab on Christmas Day isn’t suspicious at all.” Jemma gave him a look that said “stop talking now,” so he dropped it. 

“Looks like there’s only one way in,” Skye said. “One security guard at the desk in the lobby and another monitoring the cameras from an office in the basement. No one else in the building.”

“How long do you need inside?” May asked.

“Shouldn’t take more than an hour. I have to analyze the new samples before I can formulate the antiserum. We’ve already done it once, so it should be easier this time. Assuming this strain isn’t radically different from the other ones we’ve seen.”

“Skye, can you cover them?”

“I can disrupt the feed from the cameras and replace it with looped footage. But I need a window to make the switch.”

“I’ve got a localized electromagnetic suppressor,” Fitz said, digging it out of the the backpack he’d brought. “It’s like an EMP but I can control when the power comes back. Can’t give you more than a couple minutes, though, or the surge’ll fry the whole system.” 

“That should be enough time. What about the guard out front? How do we get past him?” Skye asked.

“Leave him to me,” Jemma said.

They went over the details of the plan. It took some of the edge off knowing May was running the mission and they were clear on what each of them had to do. For some reason, his biggest fear wasn’t the security guards or the police or even S.H.I.E.L.D. but the look of disappointment on Jemma’s father’s face if he found out what he’d been up to. It meant a lot to him to have Mr. Simmons’ good favor and he didn’t want to ruin it with a botched break-in attempt. The fact that the plan hinged on Jemma’s interaction with the guard made his stomach a bit queasy, but he didn’t let it show. 

May pointed at Jemma. “Okay, Simmons. You’re up.” 

“You sure you’ve got this?” Skye asked. “Cause last time—”

“Piece of cake," Jemma said, cheeringly cutting her off. He examined her closely for signs of false bravado or nervousness and found none. That was fine, since he was nervous enough for both of them.

She went around to the front entrance of the building. They couldn’t see her from their position behind the bushes, and Skye had already powered down her laptop, but she confirmed when she was about to go in over her comm link. 

Not long after he overheard a deep voice addressing her. “Can I help you?” it said.

“I certainly hope so,” Jemma replied, sweet as honey. “I’m Jemma Simmons, Roger Simmons’ daughter.”

“Right, right. Thought you looked familiar. Your dad’s got a picture of you on his desk upstairs. Nice bloke. Heard he’s been ill.”

“He’s doing much better, thank you. That’s actually why I’m here. He asked me to drop by and pick up some work he left in his office so he could finish it at home. I know it’s Christmas and all, but he’s got so much to catch up on and you know how he can be.“

“That I do. Quite the workaholic, your dad.” There was a pause and Fitz imagined the guard giving her a sympathetic look. “Thing is, though, I can’t let you up without prior authorization. Sorry, but rules are rules.”

“Oh. Well, I completely understand. I myself am a big fan of rules. He probably just forgot. He’ll be disappointed, but there’s nothing for it, I suppose. I’ll just be going then.”

May nodded at Fitz, giving him the signal to set off the EMS. He pressed and held down the button on the small device and heard a zipping sound in his ear as it knocked out their comms. Skye booted up her laptop, fingers flying across the keys. He watched over her shoulder and silently willed her to work quickly. It made him uneasy to be out of contact with Jemma for any length of time. 

After an agonizing minute Skye’s hands stilled and she said, “Okay, done.”

Fitz let go of the button and the power fizzled back to life. The image from the lobby camera showed it to be empty, though he could still hear Jemma conversing with the guard. The footage from the lab didn’t look any different, but Fitz knew better.

“Whew, that was exciting,” Jemma said to the guard. “Bloody power cuts, am I right?”

Fitz heard the guard laughing and wishing her a Happy Christmas as she left the building.

Less than a minute later she was back at Fitz’s side and he felt like he could breathe properly again. “How’d it go?” he asked.

She pulled an empty pipette out of her sleeve. “Brilliantly. Slipped a few drops of my solution into his tea when he was distracted by the power cut. I’m afraid our guard friend is going to be spending most of his Christmas afternoon in the loo, poor thing.”

He reminded himself never to get on Jemma’s bad side.

They gave her formula a good twenty minutes to kick in before Fitz and Jemma approached the front of the building. As expected, the guard was nowhere to be found. Jemma’s dad’s keycard allowed them access to the elevators and she led him to the lab on the second floor. 

“We’re in,” Fitz said. “How’s it looking out there?”

“All clear,” May responded. “We’ll keep an eye out.”

They got to work quickly, pulling out the samples and data they already had. The new samples were similar to the ones found in Nevada, though with a few alterations. They compared them both to the original Chitauri virus and found striking similarities, although the new strains were far less lethal, as Jemma’s father’s case had proven. His blood showed yet another variation, though it was close enough that they could still create a cure based on Jemma’s original antiserum using the antibodies in their own blood. Fitz volunteered, but she insisted on using her own, reminding him that of the two of them, she was less squeamish. He didn’t bother to argue.

They were just about finished when Skye’s voice came over the comm. “Uh, guys? Infrared is showing someone else entering the building. Someone besides the guards. You’re not alone in there.”

“Could be someone coming in to work,” Jemma reasoned as she carefully pulled a test tube out of the centrifuge. “Not everyone celebrates Christmas.”

“Or it could be trouble,” May said ominously. “Hurry it up.”

“You can’t rush science. If this doesn’t work the entire mission will be for naught.” Jemma handed the tube to Fitz and rolled her eyes. It wasn’t something she’d ever do in front of Agent May, but no one else could see them in the lab and he smiled at her impertinence. 

“Same goes if you get discovered,” May reminded her.

“Almost there,” Fitz said, adding the tube to the box containing the previously finished vials of antiserum. They had nearly a dozen now, enough for her dad and anyone who might have been exposed on this side of the Atlantic. They could complete the rest when they returned to the bus.

“Good, because whoever it is, they just got off the elevator on your floor.”

For the first time since they came up with this mad plan, Jemma looked as worried as he felt.

“What? Heading this way?” he said.

“Looks like it. Stay sharp, guys.”

They heard footsteps in the hallway, then a beep and a clicking sound as the door unlocked. Before he could think, he felt Jemma’s hands tugging on his jumper, pulling him down under the lab bench. His heart was pounding. They were hidden from view of the doorway, but if the new arrival decided to walk around to their side they would be exposed. And trapped. 

He reached for the ICER on his hip with one hand. Jemma took his other hand in hers. They were so close he could feel her breath on his skin, coming in quiet little pants. Her eyes were wide and he sensed that she was looking to him for reassurance. Though he didn’t have much to offer, he could never deny her anything she needed. So he put on a brave face and gave her hand a light squeeze, a reminder that whatever happened, they were in this together. Her expression softened and the look in her eyes transformed into something else, something so captivating he couldn’t look away. There it was again, the spark he’d felt earlier. Almost of its own accord, his body leaned into what little space was left between them as she lifted her chin to meet him. 

Then the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

He jumped at first, before the tension left his body in one, heavy breath. They were safe. For now. But this pattern that was starting to develop between them was as likely to kill him as any shadowy intruder. 

“Okay, she’s gone,” Skye said. “Heading back to the elevator.”

Fitz helped Jemma up with the hand he was still holding. He wondered if she was as sorry as he was when she let go. 

Jemma’s eyes narrowed. “She? It was a woman?”

“Or a short, skinny guy with boobs. I was just going with the odds.”

“Status report,” May said. He could almost hear the glare she must have been giving Skye.

“Packing up now and getting ready to head out.” Fitz said.

He could hear the clicking of keys on Skye’s laptop. “Okay, guard number two is patrolling the first floor, so watch your backs.” 

“First floor or ground floor?” Fitz asked.

“Right, forgot you count them differently here. Ground floor. He’s at the other end of the building, so now would be a good time to get the hell out.”

Fitz looked to Jemma for confirmation that she was ready to leave. She nodded once. “On our way,” he said.

The lobby was empty when they got there and they managed to escape the building without any trouble. As soon as they were outside, Fitz felt a sense of relief wash over him. They’d done it. Maybe he wasn’t too bad at all this field stuff after all.

When they returned to the rendezvous point, Skye still had her laptop open. She was typing furiously with a look of concern on her face. Something was wrong. 

“There’s something you need to see,” she said, turning the screen to face them. “When I switched the cameras back I took a screencap of the woman who was in the building with you.”

The still picture showed a young woman walking down a corridor in the direction of the camera. It was in black and white and a little blurry, but her familiar, scowling face was as plain as day. 

“Claire?” Jemma turned to Fitz, as if he could tell her why her cousin seemed to be following them. “But . . . what would she be doing here?”

“Simmons, have you noticed there’s something off about your cousin?” Skye asked.

“That’s just how she is,” Jemma said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “She’s always been like that.”

“Something is definitely off,” Fitz chimed in.

In response to Skye’s questioning look, Jemma rolled her eyes and explained, “Fitz thinks she was hitting on him.”

“She was,” he said, sounding more defensive than he intended. “Is that so hard for you to believe?”

Skye shook her head. “I don’t think that’s what was going on.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Fitz huffed.

“No, I mean, I think she was trying to get information out of you. I did a little digging earlier today while I was waiting for you guys—”

“You looked into my cousin?”

“I was bored and she was annoying. Anyway, I found something interesting. Did she mention that she’d visited the U.S. recently?”

This was new information. Why wouldn’t she mention it when she knew they’d just come from Vegas? “No. Has she?”

“According to her travel records she flew in and out of Phoenix just last month.”

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “Arizona? Strange that she wouldn’t mention it. Where exactly was the second breakout?”

“Tucson. That’s pretty close to Phoenix. You know what else isn’t far from there?“

Fitz knew exactly where Skye was going. “Las Vegas?”

“She’s a biologist isn’t she? What if she’s the connection between the outbreaks and your dad’s illness?”

“No, we already know the connection,” Jemma said, as distraught as she’d been when she first found out. “It’s me.”

“What do you mean?” May asked. FItz had almost forgotten she was there.

“As you know, this virus we’re tracking is based on the Chitauri virus we encountered before,” Jemma explained. “After it happened, I . . . emailed my dad and told him about it. I know I shouldn’t have, but I’d almost died and I needed him to know I was okay. So he knew about the virus, the cure, everything.”

“But how would he have gotten hold of it?” May reasoned. “The helmet was locked away in a secure S.H.I.E.L.D. facility.”

“I don’t know, but it can’t be a coincidence.”

“No, but maybe you’re not the one to blame.” Fitz put his hand on Jemma’s back, rubbing in small, gentle circles. He knew how bad she’d felt when she discovered she could have been the one responsible for the outbreaks. 

He hoped for her sake they’d soon be able to prove otherwise.


	7. Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma finally get to the bottom of this mystery and how Claire in involved. But before they head home, they have one more stop - Glasgow.

Jemma was vibrating with nervous energy when they returned to the house. The drive back from the lab was uneventful. She was lost in her own thoughts, trying to understand how Claire was involved in all of this. Claire was jealous and petty, of course, never missing an opportunity to point out something she thought she had bested Jemma at. She knew that. But she didn’t see her cousin as a criminal, or a bio-terrorist. And if she was involved, and somehow got her hands on alien technology, what did that make her?

She didn’t notice her fingers tapping on the steering wheel until Fitz reached over and laid his fingers over hers. 

“Are you doing alright?”

She glanced over at him and took in the look of concern on his face. 

“Yes, of course. Right as rain.”

“Jemma.”

Fitz knew her too well to be fooled by her false cheeriness. Which was just one more thing that made him even more frustratingly perfect. 

She sighed. “It’s just that Claire has always been awful to me — competitive and spiteful — but she is _still_ my cousin. How could I not have seen this?”

“We still don’t know what _this_ is. Which is why Coulson told us to keep digging when May gave him the update.”

Reaching her parent’s house, Jemma stopped the car in the drive and shifted into park.

“I know that,” she bristled. “But I still think we should confront her and try to find out what she knows.”

“I know...but it’s safer if we don’t. We just need to maintain our cover. That gives us much better access, especially if it is this close to home. We don’t want your family to be in danger.”

Unbuckling his seat belt, Fitz got out of the car and waited for her. 

She made sure the doors were locked and was ready to go back into the house when Fitz stopped her by taking her hand as she walked past. 

“Wait...don’t go in yet.” Confusion must have shown on her face because he continued, “We were on a date, yeah?”

“Right.”

“But it looks like you are upset. I don’t want your parents to think we were fighting.”

“Oh.” Fitz was so thoughtful, not wanting to worry her parents. 

Using their linked hands, he tugged her closer until he could wrap her in a hug. Which was nice because it was a cold night. Snow covered the ground around them and their breath came out as chilly puffs. 

Jemma looked up at the night sky, the clouds clearing to show the stars twinkling above them. It was romantic — the combination of the cold night air and the warmth of Fitz’s embrace was something she could get used to. She tilted her face up to his and without thought wrapped her arms around his neck and raised herself onto her toes so she could kiss him. 

His lips were warm and she melted against him. His arms came around her and she pressed her tongue against his lips. That may not have been strictly necessary, but she could always say she thought she saw someone peeking through the curtains. 

The kiss went on and on, and she was a little sorry to let him go. 

“There,” Fitz said, rubbing her shoulders. “Now you look like a woman who’s been out on a date with her new husband.”

“I look like I’ve been snogging in my parent’s front yard?”

“You look happy...and your cheeks are nice and rosy.” Fitz took her hand again and tugged her towards the door. “Now let’s get you inside before you turn into an icicle.”

“There you are!” Jemma’s mum exclaimed from the living room.“We were just about to warm up the leftovers, but we didn’t want to get started without Fitz.”

“Thanks, Dr. Simmons — I mean, Caroline.”

“Go right into the kitchen, dears. Just help yourself. Claire is already putting a plate together.” 

Fingers linked, Jemma walked beside Fitz into the house, the antiserum tucked securely into her bag. As soon as she found a minute to slip away she’d administer a dose to her father. But for now she was content to spend a few more minutes pretending that Fitz really was her husband and that they weren’t doing anything more than visiting for the holiday. They should enjoy their last day here before leaving for Glasgow in the morning.

She leaned closer to Fitz as he went to grab plates from the counter, and when she looked up she froze. The look on Claire’s face wasn’t one she had seen before. Instead of the normal scowl she normally turned on Jemma, there was a new kind a hatred there, like she had let a mask drop.

“What’s wrong, Claire?” Jemma asked, concern evident in her voice.

“Welcome back, you two. I hope you accomplished what you left to do.”

“We went to the...the Christmas Market,” Fitz answered.

“Right. And I’m married to Prince William. I didn’t realize we were seeing who could come up with the biggest lie.”

“W-what?” stammered Jemma, thrown by this sudden change in Claire’s behavior. Thinly veiled insults she had expected, but this was so much more direct.

“Hand over the antiserum.”

“Antiserum?”

“The one you made today in the lab.”

“So you _were_ following us!”

“Of course I was following you, Jemma, but I don’t have time for this.” 

She pulled out a gun from her bag on the counter behind her, and pointed it towards them.

“The antiserum. _Now_.”

Jemma felt Fitz stiffen beside her and she reached out a hand to him. But rather than take it, he wrapped a hand around her hip and pulled her closer to him. 

“I’m not giving you the antiserum. I formulated it to cure the people who were infected.”

Claire took a few steps closer, predatory, and turned her focus to Jemma.

“Yes, perfect little Jemma. Always two steps ahead. ‘Jemma did this. Jemma did that. Why can’t you be more like Jemma?’ I’m sick of hearing it!” She practically spat the words at them, full of venom.

“We don’t have to compete--” Jemma started.

“Oh, no. That’s over now. I tried doing it your way. I applied to S.H.I.E.L.D. And what did I get for it? Rejected. Twice.” Her voice was louder now and Jemma glanced towards the living room where she could hear the sounds of her mother and Aunt Vera stirring.

“Yes, well, that tends to happen when you get caught cheating on your entrance exams.” Jemma tried to stay calm and Fitz’s grip on her helped keep her grounded. 

“Claire doesn’t need to cheat,” said Aunt Vera, who was entering the room, her sister following behind. She froze when she saw the gun in her daughter’s hand and let out a small squeak.

“I thought it showed initiative. I was willing to do whatever it took to be successful, but S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't recognize my talent when they saw it.”

“If you put the gun down, I’m sure we can figure something out. Jemma and I know lots of people at S.H.I.E.L.D. and we can put in a good word for you,” Fitz said, sounding a lot calmer than Jemma knew he felt. She leaned closer to him to give him her silent support.

Claire tilted her head to the side and gave Fitz a smirk -- a look that Jemma really wished she could wipe off of her cousin’s face.

“Oh, I don’t need S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore. I’ve made some friends whose vision goes much further.”

“What is going on, Claire? What has Jemma done _now_? And why do you have a gun?” Aunt Vera asked.

“Jemma and her _husband_ broke into Uncle Roger’s lab today. I’m just trying to recover what they stole.”

“Jemma!” her mum yelled in disbelief.

“I did no such thing! Fitz and I work for S.H.I.E.L.D., Claire is the one who is up to no good.”

“Oh, fine, Jemma. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” Claire said with a laugh. “I found where I truly belong. With people who saw my potential and the potential of the virus that Jemma found.” Claire surveyed the group arranged in front of her. “And they hate S.H.I.E.L.D. just as much as I do. I’m going to take S.H.I.E.L.D. down, and you with it, Jemma. Though, of course, you are just the icing on the cake.”

“Who do you work for?” The question came from Fitz. At least one of them was still thinking about the mission. Then she remembered that Fitz was still on comms and probably had May in his ear right now. 

“That is an excellent question, Fitz. But you know I can’t tell you that.” She waved the gun like she was shaking her finger at them. “I’m sure you understand, don’t you?”

She raised an eyebrow at Fitz and then shifted her attention to her mother and aunt. “Jemma and Fitz know all about keeping secrets. Everything they’ve told you is a lie. And their relationship is a sham.”

“It isn’t a sham,” Fitz said. “I love Jemma, and I...I’d do anything for her.”

He reached for her with his other hand as well and Jemma let herself relax against him. Fitz was the perfect partner. There was no one she’d rather be in the field with. They would get through this. His hand moved under her jumper and she finally realized what he was doing. It may have been too obvious to reach for his own weapon, but Fitz now had her ICER firmly in his hand.

Claire snorted, “Come off it, you aren’t married and you don’t work in a lab. I know what you’ve been up to. And now everyone will know that their perfect, precious Jemma is nothing but a liar.”

“What on earth?” Vera asked, looking from her daughter to her sister and back. 

“Jemma is only here to investigate an alien virus. Fitz is her cover, not her husband.”

“Well...well, that is just ridiculous,” her mum replied. 

Claire seemed to have a lot of information about Jemma, about S.H.I.E.L.D, about the virus. Information she shouldn’t have. Not taking her eyes off her cousin, Jemma answered, “Sorry, mum, but when dad got sick it just made the most sense. But how did _you_ know that?”

“The people I work for have eyes and ears everywhere. They got their hands on the virus, but not the cure. And conveniently you are the only one who knows how to make it. So I lured you here. I modified the strain in Uncle Roger’s lab, I got your attention by testing it out where you’d be sure to see it, and I gave you a reason to come home. And here you are. With the antiserum. So we are back where we started. Hand it over.”

Claire stepped closer to Jemma, gun straight ahead, and Jemma stared her down, Fitz’s hand at her hip pushing her ICER into her hand.

The door crashed open, announcing the arrival of Skye and May, and Claire’s head turned to the side. Jemma raised the ICER and shot two rounds.

Claire crumpled and Aunt Vera screamed. Fitz caught Claire as she fell and laid her gently on the ground. 

“It’s a non-lethal weapon,” Jemma tried to explain to her near-hysterical aunt. “Fitz designed it.”

“We did it together,” he responded. 

They shared a quick smile and then refocused their attention on Claire, Jemma checking her vitals, and Fitz moving to the side so Skye and May could assess the situation.

“Coulson has been briefed and is arranging for transport. We’ll take her to a safe house for now.”

“The dendrotoxin should wear off in a few hours. I hit her twice.”

“Nice job, Simmons!” Skye said while holding her hand up for a high five. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yes, well, in the field you find yourself doing any number of unexpected things.” She had meant sneaking into the lab, fooling the guard, and shooting her cousin, but as she spoke her eyes drifted towards Fitz. She had done several unexpected, but not unpleasant, things with Fitz. Things she wouldn’t mind doing some more. 

“We’ll track down whoever she was working with, but I think we are done here. You two can fly back to the base with us.” May said the words in her normal, straightforward way, but Jemma felt like there might be a question in there somewhere. 

“Oh, we really should go explain to Fitz’s mum in person.”

Fitz looked at her and she ignored the blush she could feel in her cheeks. There was no reason for her to explain to his mum. He was perfectly capable of doing that himself. 

“We were going to take the train in the morning and then fly home the day after tomorrow.”

She just wanted one more day alone with Fitz. Everything had been so wonderful between them. It was so easy to pretend they really were together and that he meant every word, every touch, every kiss. She didn’t want to lose that all so suddenly, just because they had discovered the truth about the virus. That was like a punishment for doing a good job.

“I’m sure my mum would appreciate that. S.H.I.E.L.D did ask us to lie to her. It’s really the least we can do,” Fitz said. 

May nodded once. “Coulson has already cleared the additional days. We’ll see you back at the base.” 

Before they left to take Claire to the quinjet, Skye pulled Jemma out of earshot of everyone still in the kitchen. 

“So, it seemed like your fake marriage was going really well,” she said with a smile. 

“Yes. Fitz was very professional.” Jemma didn’t elaborate further, still not sure how she felt about everything that had transpired. 

“Uh-huh.” Skye put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, Simmons, I heard everything that happened after you left the lab today.”

“Everything?” she asked, knowing her features had screwed up into a grimace. 

“Yeah. Fitz never went off comms. Which was lucky as it turned out.”

“Yes, very lucky.”

“But the point is, I heard the conversation before you went in the house...the kiss that went on for days.”

“It was a mission, Skye,” she said, closing her eyes. 

“Come on! You are both terrible liars.” Then more gently she added, “If there is something you want to tell him, you should do it before it’s too late.”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure what I feel, let alone what I want from him.” It felt nice to confess that there might be something she wanted from Fitz. Something more than friendship. 

“Well, you have two more days to figure it out.”

Those were the words echoing in her mind as she walked up the stairs an hour later. Aunt Vera had immediately retired to her room and her mum had gone upstairs to explain everything to her dad. After administering the antiserum, she had left her mother in charge of her father’s care. 

She found Fitz in the kitchen and the two of them shared a hurried meal of leftovers and glasses of wine. They talked briefly about the mission and how they would administer the antiserum to those affected by the outbreaks. But nothing substantial. 

Now as they were walking up the stairs Jemma wondered what would happen next. 

“I’ll just grab my stuff and kip out on the couch.”

Jemma was so caught up in her own thoughts that she was surprised to hear Fitz’s voice. 

“No, you don’t have to do that.”

“There isn’t any reason for us to share your room now,” he pointed out. 

“I think we’ve proven we’re perfectly capable of sharing a room. It’s just one more night. And you’ll be more comfortable in here.”

She held her breath waiting for him to respond.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind.”Jemma reached out to squeeze his hand, not sure she’d be able to get the words out. But he seemed to accept her touch as assent, and he continued speaking. I’ll go change in the bathroom.”

She changed into her pajamas and as soon as he returned from the bathroom she went to brush her teeth and prepare for bed. 

He was already laying down when she slipped into bed next to him again. She wasn’t sure how to sleep beside him now. While she acknowledged the fact that she’d most likely seek out his warmth in the middle of the night, it seemed presumptive to start out there, so she settled for laying on her side turned towards him. 

He turned towards her in the darkness and stroked a hand down her cheek. She couldn’t help herself from turning towards his touch, and impulsively leaned forward to kiss him. 

They didn’t speak. But he kissed her back, pulling her closer and slightly on top of him, his arms around her back. She fisted her hands in the fabric of his pajama top and drew her tongue across his lip, shivering in anticipation when his mouth opened and his hands rested lower on her back. 

In the dark, with the buzz of alcohol making her feel all tingly, this didn't have to mean anything. Or it could mean everything. No one would ever have to know what happened in her darkened room. 

They kissed, exploring each other’s mouths, for more time than she had anticipated, but far less than she would have liked. But eventually, they both needed to breathe and sleep started to overtake her. She rolled off him and onto the far side of the bed. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that she could still feel his presence beside her. 

“Goodnight, Fitz.”

“Goodnight, Jemma.” 

Their departure the next morning was far more subdued than their arrival. Aunt Vera had already left and her mum and dad saw them off with hugs for her and Fitz. They didn’t seem overly upset that their marriage had been fake, but Jemma made a mental note to call home more often. Fitz would probably remind her as well. 

The train ride to Glasgow wasn’t as long as their flight to Sheffield had been, though it should have provided them ample time to discuss everything that had happened. But Jemma had no idea how to start that conversation. “You know how we’ve been kissing and touching? Well, I’d like to keep doing that” didn’t seem right. And “Why don’t we just keep pretending to be married?” might be a bit much for an opener.

So she spent most of the trip staring out the window and gnawing on her bottom lip while Fitz tapped his feet and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. 

When the silence got to be too much, she said, “It will be so nice to see your mum. I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Yeah, she’ll be glad to see you too. She’s always asking after you. But I suppose that’s because…”

Right. She looked away. His mum always asked about her because she thought they were a couple. 

“She likes you,” he insisted. 

“I think your mum is wonderful. And there are no overly competitive relatives at your house, so that’s a bonus.” She tried to make a joke of it, but it still felt a little raw. 

“Hey, Jemma, it’s alright.” He put a hand on her arm and slid it down until he could take her hand. His touch sent off fireworks in her brain and a replay of last night’s kiss in her mind. “None of it was your fault, and Claire...well, Claire was completely awful even before we found out she was behind the virus.”

“I know. But thank you, Fitz. You were completely wonderful with my family. If I did get married, I’d want it to be to someone like you.”

It felt like a confession and it hung in the air as the train came into the station and they started to gather their things. 

Fitz’s mum was there to greet them, all smiles. 

“Jemma! So good to see you. It’s been far too long since the last time I saw you.”

“Hello, Jean. It’s wonderful to see you too.”

Before she could say anything else, Jemma found herself in a comforting hug and she hugged the other woman back, letting all the tension drain from her body as she was welcomed so warmly. This would be what it felt like to actually be a part of Fitz’s family. To be welcomed home with no expectations except for her to be herself. Jemma felt tears start to form at the corners of her eyes and willed them away. When Jean finally let her go, she turned to her son. 

“Fitz, you look taller every time I see you. Are you getting enough to eat? I hope not it’s not all junk food.”

Fitz blushed and pulled his mum into a hug. “Hello, mum. It’s so good to be home.”

“Let’s get you two home. Caroline already called me with the news...again. This time that you weren’t ever actually married.” 

She raised her eyebrows and Jemma felt embarrassed. More embarrassed than she had with her own family, and they had actually seen her acting like she was married to Fitz. 

“I’m so sorry, Jean. We wanted to come tell you in person. I guess I should have made that clear to my mum.” 

“Oh, it’s quite alright dearie. No need to rush things. Fitz is a good boy, but marriage isn’t always the best thing for a relationship. It can change people.”

Jemma immediately thought of Fitz’s father and she shifted her gaze towards Fitz, but his face was impassive. Then she processed the rest of what Jean had said. It sounded like she thought they were still a couple.

They had confessed to not actually being married, but their original lie, well _her_ original lie, had not been corrected. Their parents still thought Fitz and Jemma were together. And had been for years. No wonder her mum hadn’t seemed surprised when she emerged from her bedroom that morning with Fitz right behind her. 

“Fitz is wonderful,” she assured Jean as they walked towards the car. “He would never do anything to hurt me.”

“I should think not,” she said. “I raised him better than that, but sometimes we hurt the people we care about without meaning to.”

Since it was Boxing Day, a lot of the shops in town were closed. But that didn’t seem to matter, because with just one day to spend in Glasgow, Fitz spent most of the day puttering around the house, doing the odd jobs and repairs his mum had been saving since his last visit. She would have volunteered to help him, but Jean had asked Jemma to help in the kitchen where they made some of Fitz’s favorite sweets and mince pies. 

It was a lovely day and a much-needed reprieve from the pattern their lives has fallen into since they went into the field. 

When Jemma went upstairs to get ready for bed, Fitz offered to sleep on the couch again. 

“Fitz, honestly, it isn’t a big deal for us to share. And this is _your_ room. If anyone should sleep on the couch it’s me. Just tell me if you are uncomfortable and I’ll take a blanket and pillow out to the couch.” She raised her eyebrow in a challenge. 

“No, of course not, Simmons. I’m not uncomfortable. I just didn’t want you to do something you didn’t want to do.”

“Don’t worry, Fitz. I wouldn't ask for something I didn’t want.”

He looked at her strangely for a few seconds and then nodded. The air felt charged with something that she couldn’t explain and heat started to build inside her. She should probably just go to bed before she did something she’d regret. 

“I’m gonna go talk to my mum,” Fitz mumbled. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Jemma laid down, trying to calm her emotions. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted a kiss from him like she’d never wanted anything before. Discovering how Fitz kissed and how it felt when he touched her was better than any experiment she’d ever run in the lab. That thrill from a successful experiment, the rush of endorphins, the pure joy. That was how she felt when she was with Fitz. 

She would wait up for him and maybe they’d finally talk. 

But after twenty minutes she started to get impatient. Maybe it was a bad idea after all. What they had was good. Really good. Was she just being greedy if she wanted more?

Creeping down the stairs, she went to look for him. Hopefully he wasn’t already asleep on the couch. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she didn’t see him, but then she heard voices from the kitchen. 

She was about the join them when she realized they were talking about her. 

“Jemma is such a lovely girl. And she loves you so much. Don’t make that face at me, Leopold James Fitz. I know what I’m talking about.”

“Mum, I told you, we aren’t really married. It was just for a mission.”

“I’m not talking about being married or not, though I’m thinking if you asked her she’d say yes. I can see the way she looks at you. And the way you look at her too.”

“We’ve known each other for a long time. We work together. She isn’t thinking about getting married when she looks at me.”

“Well, then Leo,” she teased, “how come she’s still wearing a wedding ring?”

Jemma glanced at the ring on her left hand and twisted it back and forth nervously. She had gotten used to the feel of the ring around her finger, a tangible reminder of Fitz and the bond they shared. Well, pretended to share. But taking off the ring felt a little bit like letting him go. And she wasn’t ready to do that yet.

“How should I know? I’m not a bloody mind reader.”

“Then why are _you_ still wearing a wedding ring?” she asked pointedly. 

Jemma held her breath, wondering if the reason he hadn’t taken his ring off the same reason she hadn’t taken hers off. 

He sighed. “I’m going to get some rest, mum. I’ll see you in the morning.”

There was the clanking of tea mugs and Jemma hurried back upstairs. She didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping. 

When Fitz came up a few minutes later, she was already tucked under the covers of his bed, no longer ready to talk about all the thoughts swirling in her mind. 

These last few days had been so different from the life they had been living. Except for Claire. That had been exactly the sort of thing they had gotten so used to. 

There was so much to love about this life, and so much to love about the man she was sharing this with. He was right. He had been beside her the whole time, and she was a fool not to have noticed before. But she wasn’t willing to lose their friendship. It seemed like he wasn’t opposed to a different type of relationship, but what happened if they didn’t work as a couple? What happened to them then? To their friendship. Their partnership.

But within this dream they were living, anything was possible. And once they were home, or back at the base rather, they would just forget anything that happened here. Maybe he was just as under the spell of this illusion as she was and when they were back home they would regret what happened here. 

He climbed into bed beside her, but seemed to know she wasn’t actually asleep. 

“What are you thinking about, Jemma?”

“Just how peaceful it is here. I haven’t had a chance to relax in...well, I don’t know how long, really. Too long. But being here. With you. It’s nice, that’s all.”

He reached for her in the darkness, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Then after a moment, his lips still lingering near her hairline. “I’ve never had a girl up here before, you know. It feels a little sordid.”

“Leopold Fitz! I am not some trollop you’ve snuck into your bedroom.” 

She turned towards him, feeling the familiar rush from his nearness, and realized how close he was — their bodies aligned with one another and lips just centimeters away. Her protests died away. This wasn’t real. But maybe for tonight it didn’t matter. 

“I know that, Jemma. You’re my wife,” he said, finding her hand and twisting the ring on her finger. 

The words were so simple, yet they filled her with an aching longing for something she hadn’t even realized she wanted. But he was so close and his accent, thicker now that he was home, sent a tingle through her body that settled low in her belly. 

So when he tilted his head closer to hers she had no idea which one of them closed the remaining distance between them. There was nothing except the two of them and the stillness of the night. 

His lips were gentle and unhurried. They slid across hers as if they had done this countless times before. Sure and confident. She shivered in anticipation and reached her arms around his neck, sliding her fingertips across his warm skin until he pressed closer to her. 

It amazed her that even in this moment of madness — for surely that was what it was — they were equal partners, negotiating a give and take. At least when they came to their senses she wouldn’t have to pretend to be embarrassed. They were doing this just like they did everything else — together. 

His hand rested on her hip, rubbing gently where her pajama top had ridden up, before moving to her back, molding their lower bodies together. She sighed against his mouth, and felt his lips turn up in a smile. While their kisses were innocent and sweet, his body’s biological response to her proximity matched the way she felt herself responding to him. 

Emboldened, she pushed her tongue against his lips and tilted her head to get as close to him as she could. 

It was a strange feeling, needing him so much, but letting the urgency of the moment dissolve into the magic of this place, this moment...this one night together, she decided to forget logic and reason and just do what felt right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...we wanted to leave this fic rated T, but there is more to this story. What happens next will be posted as a separate fic (that also fills a kink bingo square) that you should read between chapters 7 and 8. Look for "What Felt Right” to be posted in a few days.


	8. Fitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All holidays (and fanfictions) must come to an end. It's time for Fitz and Jemma to return to the Bus, but after everything that happened on their mission, can their relationship truly go back to the way it was before?

Fitz woke up in his childhood bedroom clinging to the thread of a sublime and vivid dream in which he’d made passionate love to Jemma. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a dream like that here, which was why it took him longer than it should have to realize it hadn’t been a dream at all. The fact that there was no sign of Jemma to clue him in probably also had something to do with the blurring of his memory. But his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. It had happened. And it had been amazing. Mind blowing. Life changing.

But the longer he lay in bed alone, the more he wondered if he might be alone in those feelings too. They’d agreed to talk things over today, yet she’d slipped out of his room without a word. There could be any number of reasons for her absence, but he could only focus on the worst possible scenarios to explain it. Maybe, in the cold, harsh light of day, she’d woken up regretting their night together. Maybe it hadn’t meant as much to her as it had to him. Or it had been disappointing. Though years of experience had proven they were compatible in almost every way, could it be that they’d finally discovered the one way in which they weren’t suited at all? It was their first kiss all over again. She’d seemed very into it at the time, but her silence afterward had left him questioning everything and worrying that he’d somehow screwed it all up. And this was so much more significant than a kiss under the mistletoe.

He took his time getting dressed, putting off the inevitable for as long as possible. He would have to face her sooner or later, but he needed time to prepare himself to accept her rejection gracefully. They still had a day of travel to go, and then they’d have to return to work, side by side, in their very small lab. He didn’t want to go on as though nothing had changed between them, but he would try his best if that’s what she wanted. Their friendship and partnership was worth too much to throw away on one night of lustful abandon.

He stepped into the hall and then spun around and went back into his room, pulling the ring off his finger and placing it on his dresser before he changed his mind.

He found her in the kitchen, dressed for the day and drinking tea at the little round table by the window. She didn’t look up as he entered. She was reading something intently, and as he got closer he noticed it was the book he’d given her for Christmas. The golden morning light framed her profile in the most exquisite way and bounced off the diamond she was still wearing, scattering bright little pinpoints in all directions. His breath hitched as he took in the sheer, perfect beauty of the scene. He considered a number of conversation starters, ranging from remarking on her early rising to asking if this was her way of letting him down gently to flat-out confessing he was hopelessly in love with her, but dismissed them all. 

Instead, he decided to go with the most non-committal greeting he could think of. “Morning.”

Startled, she turned her gaze from the page toward the sound of his voice. “Oh! Good morning.” She seemed to be in good enough spirits, if a little preoccupied. “Your mum’s run down to the shop for more sugar. Seems we used it all up in our baking spree yesterday.”

“Guess I’ll hold off on tea,” he said with a yawn. “Worth it for the shortbread and mince pies, though.”

There was a plastic bag of bread on the counter already open, so he extracted a couple of slices and popped them into the toaster. It was an old-fashioned grill-style model, but he’d kept it running well past its expected expiry date because it only cooked the bread on one side, the way he preferred. Funny how he never missed little things like that until he came back home.

“Sorry I left you on your own this morning,” she said, staring into her teacup. “I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep. Didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” he lied. “When I woke up and you were gone I figured there wasn’t much point in staying in bed.”

He turned his head toward the toaster to wince. Why did he have to phrase it that way? He could feel his cheeks burning. 

“Ah. Well, about that—” she started.

“No, Jemma, you don’t have to—” he finished.

“But we said—”

He waved his hands in the air and raised his voice. “Stop!” And she did. He pulled out the chair opposite her at the table and sat down. “Let’s not do this. We agreed that we wouldn’t let anything that happened on this mission affect our relationship when we get back. You said it yourself, ‘What happens in the U.K. stays in the U.K.’”

The line didn’t seem so funny this time. “I mean, it’s understandable,” she said. “We were in a heightened emotional state. It’s the body’s natural response to stress and an excess of hormones after being subjected to so much tension over a prolonged period of time.”

Leave it to Jemma to explain it all away with science. So help him, it only made him love her more. Which was a supremely inconvenient thing to be thinking in the middle of a conversation about how they could salvage what was left of their friendship.

He pointed at her and nodded. “Right. Hormones. That makes sense.”

She lowered her head, swirling what was left of her now-cold tea around in her cup. “So, what do we do now? Go back to the way it was before? Like it never happened?”

“No,” he responded instantly. Then he reconsidered. “I don’t know. Maybe. What we had was so simple. Comfortable.”

She smiled for the first time that morning, and he felt the tense knot in his gut start to loosen a bit. “Effortless, really.”

He smiled back. “And I don’t want anything to interfere with that.”

“No, me either,” she said. He thought he detected a note of sadness in her words, but he could have been imagining it. “I’m really glad we can still be friends.”

The kitchen was quiet for what seemed like several minutes, until the sudden sound of the toaster popping broke the silence. He got up to take the slices out.

He knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t do it while Jemma was looking at him as if she’d lost something precious. A little hurt now was better than a lot of hurt in the future, when everything fell apart. So he focused on fixing his toast as he forced out the words. It was for the best, and they would both come to accept that eventually. “I’m going to tell my mum the whole truth, that we’ve never been anything more than friends. We won’t have to lie or pretend anymore. And we can start working on putting this all behind us.”

“But what if—”

She was interrupted by the front door opening and his mother calling, “I’m back, dears!” 

Jemma’s eyes were pleading him not to drop the subject, but he was determined that this was the right course. Everything had to go back to the way it was. He’d spent nearly eight years burying his feelings. He could keep on doing it if that’s what it took to put them back on solid ground. What he couldn’t do was risk losing her forever because they’d rushed into something they weren’t ready for.

Fitz’s mum appeared in the doorway carrying a shopping bag. He took it from her and set it on the counter as she removed her coat and scarf. “Thought you might want to have a lie-in this morning, but I see you’re both up early. Hope you didn’t have to wait too long for your tea.”

“Nah. Jemma can do without and I just came down.”

His mum pulled the sugar out of the bag, along with several glass bottles of a bright orange liquid. “Picked up some Irn-Bru while I was out too. You can take some back for a little taste of home. Now, what can I fix you for breakfast?”

“This’ll do,” he said, pointing to his plate of toast. 

“Since when have you ever been satisfied with two slices of toast for breakfast, Leo?”

“Leave it, mum.” She knew him well enough to read his tone and didn’t push any further. “We should get packing anyway. We’ve only got a few hours before we have to leave for the airport.”

“I know. And I feel greedy wanting you to stay longer. It’s been so nice to have you both here, together, for the holidays. You really must come back for another visit soon.”

“We will,” he said, hoping it was true.

Jemma closed her book and took her teacup to the sink to rinse it. “Now that you mention it, I do have some repacking to do before we leave. Meet you upstairs?”

He nodded and gave her a look that he hoped conveyed gratitude before she disappeared into the hall.

Once he was gone, he turned back to his mother. “Mum—” he began, but she cut him off with one raised hand.

“Don’t worry, love. I didn’t hear a thing last night.” He couldn’t tell whether she was joking or she really hadn’t heard anything. Either way, he felt his face flush. 

He settled his back against the counter, gripping the edges on either side for support. “No. It’s not . . . There’s something I need to tell you. You already know that Jemma and I aren’t really married. What Dr. Simmons didn’t tell you, because she doesn’t know, is that we were never together. Jemma told her mum we were a couple to get her off her back. But we’re just friends. That’s all.”

“Are you now? Well that’s interesting, because I may have told a wee fib myself.”

“You did? About what?”

“I did hear something last night. Sounded more than friendly to me. Or are you two the kind with benefits?”

“Mum!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. That was it. He was going to die right there of embarrassment. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I put my headphones on and went right to sleep.”

Last night he'd been riding high on ecstasy and looking at a world full of shining possibilities. How had it all crashed down into this morning from hell?

“Doesn’t matter anyway. Nothing’s changed. We’re heading back to work and things will go right back to the way they were.”

“If you say so. But will you take some advice from your old mum?”

“You’re not that old,” he scoffed.

“Hush,” she said, patting him on the arm. “You’re stepping all over my big moment of sage motherly wisdom.” 

He laughed. “Sorry. Go on.”

“When your father left I was a wreck, but you stood strong. For my sake. You never showed how much it bothered you, but I knew it did. That kind of abandonment, it leaves a mark. Makes you hold tighter to the people you care about. Makes you so afraid you’ll do something to chase them away. But Jemma’s not going anywhere. She cares about you too. And even now, because of that fear, you refuse to see it.”

He felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes and wiped them away with the back of his hands. “I can’t lose her, Mum. I couldn’t bear it.”

She rubbed his shoulder. “I know, my boy. You’re scared. It’s only natural. But don’t let it keep you from something that could be truly special. I’m not trying to push you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. I only want you to be happy. Please promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I will,” he said with a sniffle. “I promise.” 

Sometimes talking to his mother made him feel like he was ten years old all over again. She pulled him into a hug and he squeezed her back. He really did wish they had more time before they had to leave.

When they separated she nodded at his left hand. “You took it off, I see.”

He rubbed the fourth finger where his ring had been. He’d only worn it for a few days, but he’d gotten used to the feel of it. “Wasn’t any point in wearing it anymore.”

“I suppose not. You don’t need a ring on your finger when you wear your heart on your sleeve.”

The trip back to the U.S. was quiet. There was no one sitting in the middle seat of their row, so he took the window while Jemma sat on the aisle. They were only one seat apart, but it might as well have been the Grand Canyon. He slept for most of the flight, waking only to eat the dry sandwich that passed for an in-flight meal. He looked for a movie to watch, but nothing interested him. She spent most of her time reading, first the magazine from the back of the seat and then her new book. At least she seemed to like her Christmas present. 

Coulson had the Bus meet them at Newark airport so they didn’t have to continue on to Las Vegas. After they’d had a chance to unpack and shower, they met the team in Coulson’s office to debrief. Fitz and Jemma helped fill in whatever mission details May and Skye couldn’t provide. Their new orders were to complete the antiserum for the victims in Nevada and Arizona. Jemma would take care of that while he worked on a more efficient delivery system that could administer more than one dose without refilling. 

As the team was being dismissed, Coulson asked Fitz and Jemma to stay behind. Fitz considered the possibility that they’d been found out and were about to get a lecture about fraternization. The thought made his stomach churn. From the way Jemma paled at the request he guessed she had similar worries. But neither of them were prepared for the news Coulson had to deliver.

"It's about your cousin, Agent Simmons,” he began.

Jemma rolled her eyes. "Oh lord, what's she done now?"

"Escaped S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. We're not sure how. She may have had help from inside. I got the word from our London branch right after your flight landed."

"Well, that's not good," Fitz said, realizing too late what an obvious and unhelpful statement it was.

"Skye is monitoring facial recognition software worldwide, looking for a match. If she resurfaces anywhere, we'll know."

"I'm so sorry, sir," Jemma said. "I had no idea she was capable of such horrible things. If I’d known I _assure_ you—"

"No one is blaming you. And we wouldn’t have learned what she was up to if it weren't for you two. So accept my commendation on a successful mission and let that be the end of it."

And with that they went back to work. 

When things didn’t go back to normal right away he told himself they just needed time. In the lab they were as productive and efficient as ever, but outside of it they barely spoke. She ate her meals in her bunk rather than the common spaces on the Bus, and when they landed in Nevada the next day to deliver the first batch of antiserum she was the first off the plane. 

Later that night he was surprised to hear her distinctive knock on his wall. Despite the late hour he was still wide awake, so he slid the partition open to let her in, hoping she’d missed him as much as he’d been missing her. For a while she stood there fidgeting, looking like she wanted to say something, but unable to form the words. Finally, she opened her palm to reveal something shiny and metallic. He hadn’t seen the ring on her finger since that morning in his mum’s kitchen, hadn’t even known for sure whether she still had it, but there it was.

“Coulson will probably want this back,” she said, holding it up between her thumb and index finger. “In case it’s needed for another mission.”

“Keep it,” he told her. “I’ll make a new one for Coulson. I mean, not _for_ Coulson. For the . . . . undercover . . . . the disguise kit. Whatever. You know what I mean.”

She ignored his stuttering and nodded solemnly, stuffing the ring back into her pocket. The next morning he found it sitting on his desk. 

It hurt more than he expected. He’d been naive to think he could just make Jemma an undercover wedding ring and expect her to keep it once the mission was over. Even if it was the perfect ring for her. He was acting more like a schoolboy with a crush than an experienced field agent. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to return the ring to storage, like it was nothing. He spent the rest of the day making a replacement set for Coulson.

The next day, which happened to be New Year’s Eve, his phone buzzed. There was no number on the screen, which was odd, since his phone was set up to bypass most security software and track every incoming call. 

Rather than answering with his usual “Go for Fitz” he simply said, “Hello?” and heard nothing but silence on the line. He was about to disconnect when a small voice with an English accent came on.

“Hi, Fitz,” she said.

He let out a long sigh. “What do you want, Claire?”

“I . . . I didn’t think Jemma would take my call.”

With a few keystrokes he had S.H.I.E.L.D.’s tracing software up and running. But the encryption she was using was incredibly sophisticated, bouncing off a dozen satellites faster than he could keep up. “Probably not. And I shouldn’t either. Unless you’re turning yourself in.”

“No such luck, dear boy. And if you’re trying to trace this call you’re wasting your time. I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve thinking an apology over the phone is going to make up for what you’ve done. You unleashed a potentially lethal virus on innocent people. You infected Jemma’s father and put her and her mother in danger. That’s not something you forgive and forget.”

“I know. And I don’t expect you to do either one. I’m trying to find a way to make things right. The people I work for, they’re not good people. You won’t believe me, but I didn’t know how bad until it was too late. I was blinded by jealousy and competition and I blamed S.H.I.E.L.D. and Jemma and everyone else except myself.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

"I like you, Fitz. You’re one of the good ones. And in spite of it all, Jemma is family. I thought you should know that your team is compromised. Your entire organization, in fact.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t say more. I tried to leave, I swear I did. But they’re threatening my mum and there’s no getting out for me. So I’m warning you, be careful. Don’t trust anyone but each other. You really are a perfect couple.”

“But we’re not—”

“Yes, yes. You know, for geniuses, you two are incredibly thick. You can't see what’s right in front of you. And I mean that in more ways than one. Goodbye, Fitz. I know you’ll take good care of my cousin.”

The line went dead before he was able to get a fix on her location.

Whatever personal issues he and Jemma had, the call wasn’t something he ought to keep to himself. He had to let Coulson know too, but she needed to hear it first, and she needed to hear it from him. So he screwed up his courage and went to look for her in her bunk. 

She opened the partition as soon as he knocked. “Hi, Fitz,” she said, attempting a modicum of enthusiasm that he could tell she didn’t feel. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I thought you should know, I just got a call from Claire.”

“What? Did you trace it?”

“I tried, but it was heavily encrypted. I think she’s in over her head with her employers. She apologized for her behavior and said something about how our team and S.H.I.E.L.D. are compromised.”

He decided to leave out what she’d said about their relationship. It wasn’t relevant to the conversation anyway. 

“You don’t actually believe her do you?”

“I don’t know. She sounded scared. And she said they threatened your aunt. But she had us all fooled before, so maybe she’s still playing games.”

“Of course she’s playing games. It’s _Claire_. Don’t forget what she’s done.”

“I haven’t forgotten. I’m just telling you what happened.”

“Thank you,” she said. It sounded sincere. “We’ll find out soon enough if she’s up to anything. In the meantime, S.H.I.E.L.D. is still hunting her and we’ll keep watch in case she ever rears her ugly blonde head again. We should probably request protection for Aunt Vera though, just to be safe.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” It seemed like a natural place to end the conversation and leave, but he found he didn’t want to. “So . . . um . . . happy New Year’s Eve, I guess.”

She sat down on the bed and patted the space next to her, giving him a small smile. “Happy New Year’s Eve. Got any wild plans?”

He laughed softly and joined her. It was nice to be close to her again without it being awkward. This felt more like them. “I’m gonna get drunk on a plane. You?”

“Same, actually. Were you planning on drinking alone or did you want some company?”

“Depends on the company.” He leaned over and bumped her shoulder with his, leaving no ambiguity about who he considered to be the best sort of company.

She shifted her body so she was facing him and the words came spilling out, in a trickle at first and then a flood. “I’ve missed you, Fitz. I know that sounds strange when we’ve been right next to each other for the past four days, but I really do. And I know we’re not supposed to talk about what happened on the mission, but we did say it wouldn’t affect our relationship, and it has. So now we’re not even friends anymore and everything is terrible, which was exactly what we were trying to avoid.”

It was the most she’d said to him in days. And it was everything he’d been feeling himself. 

“I miss you too,” he said, taking her hand. “I miss . . . us. Not just us from before, not just our friendship, but . . . us . . . the way we were in Sheffield.”

“But it was all just pretend. It wasn’t real, Fitz.”

“Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket and drawing out her ring. “This is real. I made it for you. Before the mission, before all the pretending, I already knew what kind of ring I would give you someday. That means something.” 

“What does it mean?” she ventured softly. Her eyes were so big, so desperate for him to confirm what she must have already guessed. She wasn’t running away or hiding from it. He allowed himself to hope that his mum had been right. Maybe Jemma wanted this as much as he did. And once he let the hope take hold, he knew there was no going back. There was only one thing left to do. 

He set the ring down on the table next to the bed and took her hands in his. 

“It means the only lie — maybe the biggest one I’ve ever told — was that I wasn’t in love with you. Because I am. I think I always have been.”

“Oh, Fitz.” She leaned over and pressed her lips to his, softly at first, then more intensely. He followed her lead and kissed her back with equal fervor. She broke it off sooner than he was ready to, and when he leaned in to kiss her again she put her hand on his chest to stop him. Her honey-brown eyes stared deep into his and she said, “I love you, too.”

His face split into a wide grin. “Really?”

She nodded, then wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He felt like he might lift off the ground and float away if she ever let go.

“I don’t think I fully understood it until now,” he whispered into her ear. He pulled back before continuing. He needed to see her face for this next part. “And I know we kind of skipped over the whole dating bit, but this past week has given me a glimpse of what it would be like to be with you, to be your husband, and it just felt . . . so bloody _right_. I know this is it for me. You are it. I’ll never want anyone else. So how about we make it real?”

He reached over to the table where he’d left the ring and held it out to her. 

“Fitz. Are you . . . proposing right now? Is this an actual proposal?”

He felt the insecurity creeping back in, like a needle hovering over his happy little bubble. “Do you want it to be?”

“More than anything,” she said, eyes shining.

“Then it absolutely is. Will you marry me, Jemma Simmons?”

“Yes! Of course, yes!”

Rather than bursting, the bubble inside him grew until it was large enough to encompass them both. He slipped the ring onto her finger, where it belonged. He couldn’t wait until he could wear the matching one that was still sitting in his drawer. They held each other for a long time, basking in the knowledge that their perfect pretend life would one day soon become a reality.

Many hours and many kisses later — after they’d had their fill of New Year’s Eve champagne and congratulations from the team — they slipped into Fitz’s bunk together to celebrate their engagement in an entirely different, more private, manner.

“We should probably call our parents and give them the good news,” Fitz said, rubbing his thumb over the diamond he still couldn’t believe he’d been lucky enough to be able to put on Jemma’s finger.

She laughed. “They’re not going to believe it.”

“Oh, I think they might,” he said, placing a kiss on the back of her hand, followed by her lips, forehead, and both cheeks. “In fact, I think we might be the only two people who didn’t realize it was never just pretend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the story, friends! On behalf of Libby and I both, thank you so much for joining us on this little holiday trip. Your lovely comments have meant the world to us. I also want to thank my co-author for being the absolute best and making writing so much fun. I'm so lucky she puts up with me! 
> 
> We have a fun little epilogue coming up for you very soon, so keep an eye out for that.


	9. Skye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Fitz and Jemma are engaged, there is one big step they still have to take in their relationship. And they'll get there with a little help from Skye.

Skye looked down to the buzzing of her phone and sighed when she saw the number. A number she now recognized very well. 

“Dr. Simmons, I’m not sure where Jemma is,” she said by way of greeting. 

“Oh, that’s quite alright, dear. I was hoping to talk to you.”

“To me?” Skye was startled. She thought after everything that had happened over Christmas, Jemma’s mom wouldn’t have had much interest in talking to her. . .or anyone from S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“Yes, of course. You are friends with Jemma and Leo, right?”

Skye wasn’t sure she understood where this was going, but figured she should be polite to Jemma’s mom. She _had_ invited her in for lunch after all, even if Skye hadn’t been able to stay. She had just seen her as Jemma’s friend. And it seemed like she still saw her that way. 

“Yeah. I’m friends with FitzSimmons. Is there something I can help with?”

“FitzSimmons...hmmm. Yes, well, Jemma called a few weeks ago to say they were engaged. Not just pretending to be engaged, but actually engaged. And I just wanted to be sure. . .”

“Yes, they are really engaged.” Skye’s mind flashed through the changes in FitzSimmons’ relationship, the stolen kisses when they thought no one was looking, the sickening sweetness — that Skye secretly found adorable — and the awkwardness of the mornings she saw Simmons slip out of Fitz’s bunk. Skye hadn’t actually heard anything, but she wore noise-cancelling headphones to bed just in case. 

“That’s lovely dear. Here’s the thing. I was talking to Jean, that’s Leo’s mother, and we are worried that if it took them this long to get engaged. . .well, let’s just say we won’t believe they are married unless we actually see it.”

Skye started to smile as a plan formed in her mind. A plan that would require everyone’s cooperation. But didn’t they owe it to FitzSimmons after everything that had happened?

“I think I can help you with that, Dr. Simmons.”

_February 14, 2014_

Skye tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for FitzSimmons to finish analyzing the samples they had collected from those who had been infected with the virus to make sure the antiserum had been effective. 

She had been dropping hints for the last few weeks, hoping her friends would get there on their own. But the bridal magazines she left laying around for Jemma to find and all the times she had mentioned marriage within their hearing hadn’t seemed to make an impact. So it was time for one last ditch attempt.

“Oh, shoot,” Skye said, “I can’t connect to the internet.” She caught Fitz’s eye and added, “I’m going to step outside. I’ll give you a _ring_ if I can’t connect to the _wife-eye_.”

He gave her an odd look and she walked out into the sunlight, counting to 100 before returning to Jemma’s side. 

“That’s the last one,” Jemma said, peering through the microscope at the slide she had prepared. “And...all clear. It looks like the antiserum was quite effective.”

Fitz looked at Jemma like she hung the moon, and said “Of course it was. It was _your_ antiserum.”

Jemma smiled back at Fitz while Skye rolled her eyes at them. They were adorable, they really were, but she didn’t need to see it all the time. There were more important things to focus on right now. 

“Great work, everyone,” Coulson interrupted before things got more awkward in their mobile lab. “I’d say we are entitled to a few days R&R.”

“Closest city is Las Vegas,” May pointed out. “Is S.H.I.E.L.D. picking up the tab?”

“For the hotel rooms, yes,” Coulson answered. “Anything else is on your dime.”

They all started packing up, eager to sleep in real beds, but Skye kept an eye on FitzSimmons. She wondered if she had time to drop one last hint. Or maybe she should just get May to hit them with an ICER.

“Vegas!” Simmons exclaimed. “We should go to see the fountains at the Bellagio. Oh! And there is a restaurant at the top of the Paris. It’s a tacky knock-off of the Eiffel Tower, but the view should be spectacular…”

Jemma trailed off and Skye pretended to be shutting down her laptop so she could hear the rest of the conversation.

“Marry me.”

Fitz was still looking at Jemma like she was the most amazing thing he had ever seen and Skye felt a little bad that she was eavesdropping like this, but also very relieved that her plan seemed to be working.

“Of course, Fitz,” Jemma said, brow furrowed. “I said I would. Are you feeling alright?”

“No,” he said. “Marry me. Now. In Vegas.”

“Marry you? Right now?”

Fitz pulled Jemma into his arms and Skye realized there was no point in continuing to pretend she was occupied. They didn’t even know she was still in the room. 

“Oh, Fitz.”

Skye turned away from what was turning into a very intimate moment. 

“Jemma…I love you and I don’t want to spend another day without you.”

“You’re hardly without me, Fitz,” Jemma said with a laugh. 

“This is where it all started. Without the virus and the mission it might have taken us years to realize we belonged together. I don’t want to waste another day. I want to wake up with you every morning and spend the rest of my life making you happy. I...please be my wife, Jemma.”

“Yes, Fitz! Yes.”

There was a moment of silence and then a deep sigh before Jemma spoke again. “But what about our parents? Don’t we owe them an actual wedding after everything?”

Sensing her cue, Skye stepped into their line of sight. 

“If we hurry we can make it to the airport in time to pick them up.”

Two pairs of startled eyes turned towards her as they broke apart, Fitz ducking his head a little as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Oh, Skye, didn’t see you there,” Jemma said brightly. “Who do we need to pick up from the airport?”

“Your parents. They didn’t want to miss your wedding.”

“What—”

“But we just decided to get married right now —“

“Our parents couldn’t possibly—“

They were talking over each other, the way they always did, but Skye just smiled and waited for them to finish, knowing eventually they’d run out of objections. 

“You have a booking at Chapel of the Flowers — not easy to do on Valentine’s Day by the way — your parents are landing soon, the team will meet us there, and I have the cutest bridesmaid dress.”

She smiled at their shocked faces. 

“But, what...how?” Fitz sputtered. 

“I don’t have a wedding dress,” Jemma objected, turning to Fitz with a frown. 

“Jemma, your mom is bringing her wedding dress. She thought it would fit you.” Turning, she addressed the other question. “Fitz, we figured you wouldn’t pass up the chance to be romantic and spontaneous. You’re welcome.”

“We? Who is we?” Jemma asked. 

“Oh, me, Coulson, May, Ward, and your parents. Everyone who wants to see you two happy.”

“You did all of this for us? But what would you have done if Fitz hadn’t wanted to get married today?” Jemma asked, cutting her eyes towards Fitz.

“Really? It’s Fitz!”

“Hey --” Fitz objected.

Skye held up her hands in surrender. “I just meant that he is the most romantic person I’ve ever met and I knew he wouldn’t pass up this opportunity.”

Jemma turned to Skye, wrapping her in a big hug. “You are the most wonderful friend.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”

“It’s more than that, Skye,” Fitz said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We’re family. Thank you.”

In the end, the wedding was everything Skye had dreamed it would be. Jemma walked down the aisle in a white dress that looked like it was made entirely of lace, with only a few pins holding it together in the back. Fitz looked like he was in a daze as his bride walked towards him, but once they joined hands he was surprisingly steady. Both Dr. Simmons and Jean cried through the ceremony. And Skye got to wear the red, floor-length halter dress she had picked out for the occasion. 

The only disappointment was that Coulson, rather than Ward, was standing up as Fitz’s best man. She had hoped to walk down the aisle with Ward, but he was now sporting a black eye after a freak encounter with May’s elbow and didn’t want to ruin the wedding photos. 

When they were pronounced husband and wife, FitzSimmons shared a kiss that went on a little too long to be entirely proper for a wedding kiss, and then greeted their family and friends with hugs. 

“So, darling,” Skye heard Dr. Simmons address her daughter, “when can we expect grandchildren?”

Fitz sputtered and coughed and Jemma patted him on the back. 

“Fitz and I will decide when we are ready for children. But we still have a lot more exploring to do.”

Dr. Simmons looked slightly deflated, but the celebration continued on regardless. 

Before the couple left for the honeymoon suite Skye had secured for them, Jemma came over to give her one last hug. 

“Thank you so much for everything, Skye. Today was magical. I can’t believe you did all of this for us.”

“No problem. Just remember to name your firstborn after me.”

Jemma laughed and Skye joined in. 

“You know I’m kidding, right? Just make me the godmother to all of your children and we’ll call it even.”

Jemma walked away after one more hug and went to join Fitz, who had the biggest smile Skye had ever seen. 

Those two were going to live happily ever after. She’d put money on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining us on this journey! We've had a blast writing this story. Thank you for all of your comments and encouragement along the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Updates on Fridays
> 
> Come shout at (with?) us on Tumblr! We are @LibbyWeasley and @blancasplayground!


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